George Eliot's life as related in her letters and journals

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X'j-a- 1

HARVARD
COLLEGE
LIBRARY

FROM THE

Subscription Fund

BEGUN IN 1858

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— —ir-rpnn

GEORGE ELIOrS LIFE

VOL. II.— FAMOUS

/

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"Our finest hope is finest memory"

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pEORGE ELIOTS LIFE
vJ as related in her Letters and
Journals

ARRANGED AND EDITED BY HER HUSBAND

J.W.CROSS

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

IN THREE VOLUMES. -VoLUM* II

NEW YORK

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE

MDCCCLXXXV

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HAt?vARn coiLEnr /y»Mr

j\ irrr, fdO' %

^

GEORGE ELIOT'S WORKS.

LIBRARY EDITION.

ADAM BEDE. lUastrated. zsnio, Cloth, $1.25.

DANIEL DERONDA. a vols., lamo, Cloth, $2.50.

ESSAYS and LEAVES FROM A NOTE-BOOK. lamo. Cloth, $1.2^

FELIX HOLT, THE RADICAL. Illustrated. lamo, Cloth, $1.25.

MIDDLEMARCH. » vols., i2mo, Cloth, $3.50.

ROMOLA. Illustrated. 12010, Cloth, $1.35.

SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE, and SILAS MARNER. Illustrated,
lamo, Cloth, $1.25.

THE IMPRESSIONS OF THEOPHRASTUS SUCH. i2ino, Cloth,
THE MILL ON THE FLOSS. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, ^1.25.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.

r* Harpbr & Brothers will send any of the above volumes by mail^ post-
age prepaid^ to any pari of the United States or Canada^ on receipt of
the price. For other editions of George Elio^s works published by Hat'
per &* Brothers see advertisement at end of third volume.

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CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

CHAPTER VIII.

JANUARY, 1858, TO DECEMBER, 1 858.

Success of " Scenes of Clerical Life "— " Adam Bede " . Page i
CHAPTER IX.

JANUARY, 1859, TO MARCH, 1860.

" The Mill on the Floss " . . . . . .58

CHAPTER X.

MARCH TO JUNE, 1 86a

First Journey to Italy . . . . . .120

CHAPTER XI.

JULY, i860, TO DECEMBER, l86r.

" Silas Marner"—"Romola" begun . . . .185

CHAPTER XII.

JANUARY, 1862, TO DECEMBER, 1865.

"Romola"—" Felix Holt" 238

CHAPTER XIII.

JANUARY, 1866, TO DECEMBER, 1 866.

Tour in Holland and on the Rhine .... 303

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ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. IL

1/

Portrait of George Eliot. Engraved

by G. J. Stodart Frontispiece.

"^ The Priory— Drawing-Room To face p, 266

^ Fac-simile of George Eliot^s Hand-
writing . " 280

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GEORGE ELIOT'S LIFE.

CHAPTER VIII.

yan, 2. — George has returned this evening from a joamai,
week's visit to Vernon Hill. On coming up-stairs he ' *
said, " I have some very pretty news for you — ^some-
thing in my pocket." I was at a loss to conjecture,
and thought confusedly of possible opinions from ad-
miring readers, when he drew the Times from his
pocket — ^to-day's number, containing a review of the
" Scenes, of Clerical Life." He had happened to ask
a gentleman in the railway carriage, coming up to
London, to allow him to look at the Times, and felt
quite agitated and tremulous when his eyes alighted
on ihe review. Finding he had time to go into town
before the train started, he bought a copy there. It
is a highly favorable notice, and, as far as it goes,
appreciatory.

When G. went into town he called at Nutt's, and
Mrs. Nutt said to him, " I think you don't know our
curate. Jle says the author of " Clerical Scenes " is
a High Churchman ; for though Mr. Try an is said to
be Low Church, his feelings and actions are those of a
High Churchman." (The curate himself being of
course High Church.) There were some pleasant
scraps of admiration also gathered for me at Vernon
II.— I

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2 Opinions of " Clerical Scenes'' [Richmond,

Journal, Hill. Doylc happening to mention the treatment of
*a?*-"J*H-- children in the stories, Helps said, "Oh, he is a great
writer I"

I wonder how I shall feel about these little details
ten years hence, if I am alive. At present I value
them as grounds for hoping that my writing may suc-
ceed, and so give value to my life ; as indications that
I can touch the hearts of my fellow -men, and so
sprinkle some precious grain as the result of the long
years in which I have been inert and suffering. But
at present fear and trembling still predominate over
hope,

Jan, 5. — To-day the " Clerical Scenes " came in
their two-volume dress, looking very handsome.

yan, 8. — News of the subscription — 580, with a
probable addition of 25 for Longmans. Mudie has
taken 350. When we used to talk of the probable
subscription, G. always said, " I dare say it will be
250 !" (The final number subscribed for was 650.)

I ordered copies to be sent to the following per-
sons : Froude, Dickens, Thackeray, Tennyson, Ruskin,
Faraday, the author of " Companions of my Solitude,"
Albert Smith, Mrs. Carlyle.

On the 20th of January I received the following
letter from Dickens :

*' Tavistock House, London,
Monday^ \^lh Jan, 1858.

Letter "My DEAR SiR, — I have been so strongly af-

charies fectcd by the two first tales in the book you have

Dickens to •' ''

G€/'rge had the kindness to send me, through Messrs. Black-

Khot, 18th ' °

Jan. 1858. wood, that I hope you will excuse my writing to
you to express my admiration of their extraordi-
nary merit. The exquisite truth and delicacy,
both of the humor and the pathos of these stories,

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1858.] Dickens Recognizes Woman's Hand. 3

I have never seen the like of ; and they have im- Letter
pressed me in a manner that I should find it very chaHcs
difficult to describe to you, if I had the imperti-Oe^e

, , ^ ^ Eliot, i«th

nence to try. jam. isji.

" In addressing these few words of thankfulness
to the creator of the Sad Fortunes of the Rev.
Amos Barton, and the sad love-story of Mr. Gilfil,
I am (I presume) bound to adopt the name that it
pleases that excellent writer to assume. I can
suggest no better one : but I should have been
strongly disposed, if I had been left to my own
devices, to address the said writer as a woman.
I have observed what seemed to me such womanly
touches in those moving fictions, that the assur-
ance on the title-page is insufficient to satisfy me
even now. If they originated with no woman, I
believe that no man ever before had the art of
making himself mentally so like a woman since
the world began.

" You will not suppose that I have any vulgar
wish to fathom your secret. I mention the point
as one of great interest to me — not of mere curi-
osity. If it should ever suit your convenience
and inclination to show me the face of the man,
or woman, who has written so charmingly, it will
be a very memorable occasion to me. If other-
wise, I shall always hold that impalpable person-
age in loving attachment and respect, and shall
yield myself up to all future utterances from the
same source, with a perfect confidence in their
making me wiser and better. — Your obliged and
faithful servant and admirer,

"Charles Dickens.
*' George Eliot, Esq/'

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4 Frondes Opinion. [Richmond,

Journal, Jan. 21. — To-day came the following letter from
•*'*• Froude:

- " NoRTHDOWN House, Bideford, 17/A Jaiu 1858.
" Dear Sir, — I do not know when I have ex-
frSm*j. A. perienced a more pleasant surprise than when, on
Gc^l *** opening a book parcel two mornings ago, I found
fiSl^is/s!* ^^ ^^ contain * Scenes of Clerical Life,' * From
the author.' I do not often see Blackwood; but
in accidental glances I had made acquaintance
with * Janet's Repentance,' and had found there
something extremely different from general maga-
zine stories. When I read the advertisement of
the republication, I intended fully, at my leisure,
to look at the companions of the story which had
so much struck me, and now I find myself sought
out by the person whose workmanship I had ad-
mired, for the special present of it

" You would not, I imagine, care much for flat-
tering speeches, and to go into detail about the
book would carry me farther than at present there
is occasion to go. I can only thank you most
sincerely for the delight which it has given me ;
and both I myself, and my wife, trust that the ac-
quaintance which we seem to have made with you
through your writings may improve into something
more tangible. I do not know whether I am ad-
dressing a young man or an old — a clergyman or
a layman. Perhaps, if you answer this note, you
may give us some information about yourself.
But at any rate, should business or pleasure bring
you into this part of the world, pray believe that
you will find a warm w^elcome if you will accept
our hospitality. — Once more, with my best thanks,
believe me, faithfully yours, J. A. Froude."

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1858.] Wfn. Smithy Author of ^^T/iorndale'' 5

I have long ceased to feel any sympathy with mere Letter to

. , , . , „ ,. r MissSaM

antagonism and destruction ; and all crudity of ex- Henncu,
pression marks, I think, a deficiency in subtlety of 1858.
thought as well as in breadth of moral and poetic
feeling. Mr. William Smith, the author of "Thorn-
dale," is an old acquaintance of Mr, Lewes's. I
should say an old friend^ only I don't like the too
ready use of that word. Mr. Lewes admires and
esteems him very highly. He is a very accomplished
man — a bachelor, with a small independent income ;
used to write very effective articles on miscellaneous
subjects in Blackwood, I shall like to know what
you think of "Thorndale." I don't know whether
you look out for Ruskin's books whenever they ap-
pear. His little book on the " Political Economy of
Art " contains some magnificent passages, mixed up
with stupendous specimens of arrogant absurdity on
some economical points. But I venerate him as one
of the great teachers of the day. The grand doctrines
of truth and sincerity in art, and the nobleness and
solemnity of our human, life, which he teaches with
the inspiration of a Hebrew prophet, must be stirring
up yaung minds in a promising way. The two last
volumes of " Modern Painters " contain, I think, some
of the finest writing of the age. He is strongly akin
to the sublimest part of Wordsworth— whom, by-the^
bye, we are reading with fresh admiration for his beau-
ties and tolerance for his faults. Our present plans
are : to remain here till about the end of March, then
to go to Munich, which I long to see. We shall live
-there several months, seeing the wonderful galleries
in leisure moments. Our living here is so much more
expensive than living abroad that we sav^.more than
the expenses of our journeying ; and as our work can

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6 Appreciation of Dickens's Letter. [Richmond,

jotimai, be as well done there as here for some months, we
lay in much more capital, in the shape of knowledge
and experience, by going abroad.

Jan, i8. — I have begun the "Eumenides," having
finished the " Choephorae." We are reading Words-
worth in the evening. At least G. is reading him to me.
I am still reading aloud Miss Martineau's History.
I am sure you will be interested in Dickens's letter,
Letter to which I enclose, begging you to return it as soon as
Black- you can, and not to allow any one besides yourself
jan.1'858. and Major Blackwood to share in the knowledge
of its contents. There can be no harm, of course,
in every one's knowing that Dickens admires the
" Scenes," but I should not like any more specific
allusion made to the words of a private letter. There
can hardly be any climax of approbation for me after
this ; and I am so deeply moved by the finely felt and
finely expressed sympathy of the letter, that the iron
mask of my incognito seems quite painful in forbidding
me to tell Dickens how thoroughly his generous im-
pulse has been appreciated. If you should have an
opportunity of conveying this feeling of mine to him
in any way, you would oblige me by doing so. By-
the - bye, you probably remember sending me, some
months ago, a letter from the Rev. Archer Gurney —
a very warm, simple-spoken letter — praising me for
qualities which I most of all care to be praised for.
I should like to send him a copy of the " Scenes,"
since I could make no acknowledgment of his letter
in any other way. I don't know his address, but per-
haps Mr. Langford would be good enough to look it
out in the Clergy List.

jfan, 23. — There appeared a well- written and en-
thusiastic article on ** Clerical Scenes" in the States-

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1858.] Mrs. Carlyles Thanks. 7

man. We hear there was a poor article in the 6^A?^<? journal,
— of feebly written praise — the previous week, but
beyond this we have not yet heard of any notices from
the press.

Jan. 26. — Came a very pleasant letter from Mrs.
Carlyle, thanking the author of " Clerical Scenes " for
the present of his book, praising it very highly, and
saying that her husband had promised to read it when
released from his mountain of history.

*' 5 Cheyne Row, Chelsea,
21J/ Jan, 1858.

" Dear Sir, — I have to thank you for a surprise,
a pleasure, and a^-consolation (!) all in one book ! Letter
And I do thank you most sincerely. I cannot di-carfyieuJ
vine what inspired the good thought to send mem^X^^
your book ; since (if the name on the title-page be ^°* ' ^ "
your real name) it could not have been personal
regard ; there has never been a George Eliot among
my friends or acquaintance. But neither, I am sure,
could you divine the circumstances under which I
should read the book, and the particular benefit it
should confer on me ! I read it — at least the first
volume — during one of the most (physically) wretch-
ed nights of my life — sitting up in bed, unable to
get a wink of sleep for fever and sore throat — and
it helped me through that dreary night as well —
better than the most sympathetic helpful friend
watching by my bedside could have done !

" You will believe that the book needed to be
something more than a * new novel ' for me ; that
I could at my years, and after so much reading, read
it in positive torment, and be beguiled by it of the
torment ! that it needed to be the one sort of book,

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'8 Mrs. Carlyles Conception of G. ^liot. [Richmond,
Leher howcver named, that still takes hold of me, and

from Mrs. , » i ,

Cariyieto that grows xarcr every year — a human book —
Eiiotfiist written out of the heart of a live man, not merely
*°* ' ^ * out of the brain of an author — full of tenderness
and pathos, without a scrap of sentimentality, of
sense without dogmatism, of earnestness without
twaddle — a book that makes one feel friends at
once and for always with the man or woman who
wrote it !

"In guessing at why you gave me this good gift,
I have thought amongst other things, * Oh, perhaps
it was a delicate way of presenting the novel to my
husband, he being over head and ears in history,*
If that was it, I compliment you on your tact/ for
my husband is much likelier to read the * Scenes *
on my responsibility than on a venture of his own
— though, as a general rule, never opening a novel,
he has engaged to read this one whenever he has
some leisure from his present task.

" I hope to know, some day if the person I am
addressing bears any resemblance in external
things to the idea I have conceived of him in my
mind — a man of middle age, with a wife, from whom
he has got those beautiful feminine touches in his
book — a good many children, and a dog that he
has as much fondness for as I have for my little
Nero 1 For the rest — not just a clergyman, but
brother or first cousin to a clergyman ! How ridic-
ulous all this may read beside the reality. Any-
' how — I honestly confess I am very curious about
you, and look forward with what Mr. Carlyle would
call * a good, healthy, genuine desire ' to shaking
hands with you some day. — In the meanwhile, I re-
, main, your obliged Jane W. Carlyle^**

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1858.] Fdradays Tftanks. 9

yan. 30.— Received a letter from Faraday, thanking jownai,
me very gracefully for the present of the " Scenes." '
Blackwood mentions, in enclosing this letter, that
Simpkin & Marshall have sent for twelve additional
copies — the first sign of a move since the subscription.
The other night we looked into the life of Charlotte
Bronte, to see how long it was before "Jane Eyre"
came into demand at the libraries, and we found it .was
not until six weeks after publication. It is just three
weeks now since I heard news of the subscription for
my book.

" Royal Institution, 28M Jan. 1858.
" Sir, — I cannot resist the pleasure of thanking Letter
you for what I esteem a great kindness : the pres- Faraday to
ent of your thoughts embodied in the two volumes EU^asth
you have sent me. They have been, and will, be * * '*"
again, a very pleasant relief from mental occupa-
tion among my own pursuits. Such rest I find at
times not merely agreeable, but essential.-r-Again
thanking you, I beg to remain, your very obliged
servant, . M. Faraday.

* • George Eliot, Esq. , &c. , &c. "

i^^r^. 3..— Gave up Miss Martineau's History lastJ®""***.
night, after reading some hundred pages in the second
volume. She has a sentimental, rhetorical style in
this history which is fatiguing and not instructive.
But her history of the Reform movement is very in-
teresting.

Feb,^, — Yesterday brought the discouraging news,
that though the book is much talked of, it move's very
slowly. Finished the "Eumenides." Bessie Parkeis
has written asking me ta contribute to the English-
woman's yournal — a new monthly which, she sayi^,

I*

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lo George Eliot revealed to Blackwood. [Richmond,

Journal, ''We are beginning with j^iooo, and great social in-
terest."

Feb, i6. — To-day G. went into the City and saw
Langford, for the sake of getting the latest news about
our two books — his " Sea-side Studies " having been
well launched about a fortnight or ten days ago, with
a subscription of 800. He brought home good news.
The " Clerical Scenes " are moving off at a moderate
but steady pace. Langford remarked, that while the
press had been uniformly favorable, not one critical
notice had appeared. G. went to Parker's in the
evening, and gathered a little gossip on the subject.
Savage, author of the " Falcon Family," and now edi-
tor of the Examiner^ said he was reading the " Scenes "
— had read some of them already in Blackwood—
but was now reading the volume. " G. Eliot was a
writer of great merit." A barrister named Smythe
said he had seen " the Bishop " reading them the oth-
er day. As a set-off against this, Mrs. Schlesinger
" Couldn't bear the book." She is a regular novel
reader; but hers is the first unfavorable opinion we
have had.

Feb. 26. — We went into town for the sake of seeing
Mr. and Mrs. Call, and having our photographs taken
by Mayall.

Feb, 28. — Mr. John Blackwood called on us, having
come to London for a few days only. He talked a
good deal about the "Clerical Scenes" and George
Eliot, and at last asked, " Well, am I to see George
Eliot this time ?" G. said, " Do you wish to see him ?"
" As he likes — I wish it to be quite spontaneous." I
left the room, and G. following me a moment, I told
him he might reveal me. Blackwood was kind,came-
back when he found he was too late for the train, and

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1858.] Delight in Mr. Lewes^s Books. 1 1

said he would come to Richmond asrain. He came on jouroai,
the following Friday and chatted very pleasantly — told
us that Thackeray spoke highly of the " Scenes," and
said they were not written by a woman. Mrs. Black-
wood is sure they are not written by a woman. Mrs.
Oliphant, the novelist, too, is confident on the same
side. I gave Blackwood the MS. of my new novel, to
the end of the second scene in the wood. He opened
it, read the first page, and smiling, said, " This will do."
We walked with him to Kew, and had a good deal of
talk. Found, among other things, that he had lived
two years in Italy when he was a youth, and that he
admires Miss Austen.

Since I wrote these last notes several encouraging
fragments of news about the " Scenes " have come to
my ears — especially that Mrs. Owen Jones and her
husband — two very different people — are equally en-
thusiastic about the book. But both have detected
the woman.

Perhaps we may go to Dresden, perhaps not : we Letter to
leave room for the imprhu, which Louis Blanc found HenneU,
so sadly wanting in Mr. Morgan's millennial village. 1858.*"
You are among the exceptional people who say pleas-
ant things to their friends, and don't feel a too exclu-
sive satisfaction in their misfortunes. We like to hear
of your interest in Mr. Lewes's books — at least, 7 am
very voracious of such details. I keep the pretty let-
ters that are written to him ; and we have had some
really important ones from the scientific big-wigs about
the " Sea-side Studies." The reception of the book
in that quarter has been quite beyond our expecta-
tions. Eight hundred copies were sold at once.
There is a great deal of close hard work in the book,
and every one who knows what scientific work is nec-

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12 On tlie Death af a Mother. [Richmond,

Leiierto essarilv perccivcs this ; happily many have been gen-
Miss sara , ^ . , • . . i ,
Henneii, crous enough to express their recognition m a hearty

2d March,

1858. way.

I enter so deeply into everything you say about

your mother. To me that old, old popular truism,

"We can never have but one mother," has worlds of

meaning in it, and I think with more sympathy of the

satisfaction you feel in at last being allowed to wait

on her than I should of anything else^ you could tell

me. I wish we saw more of that sweet human piety

that feels tenderly and reverently towards the aged.

[Apropos of some incapable woman's writing she adds.]

There is something more piteous almost than soapless

poverty in this application of feminine incapacity to

literature.. We spent a very pleasant couple of hours

with Mr. and Mrs. Call last Friday. It was worth a

-journey on a cold dusty day to see two faces beaming

kindness and happiness.

Letter to I enclosc a letter which will interest you. It is

HeSienr affccting to see how difficult a matter it often is for

March, the men who would most profit by a book to purchase

* ^ * . it, or even get a reading of it, while stupid Jopling of

Reading or elsewhere thinks nothing of giving a

guinea for a work which he will simply put on his

shelves.

Letter to When do you bring out your new poem? I pre-

Bray, sumc you are already in the sixth canto. It is true

March, -^ - , , ^ ,

1858. you never told me you intended to write a poem, nor
have I heard any one say so who was likely to know.
Nevertheless I have quite as active an imagination as
you, and I don't see why I shouldn't suppose you are
writing, a poem as well as you suppose that I amwrit-
ixig a novel. Seriously, I wish you would not set ru-
mors afloat about me. They are injurious. Several

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f858.] Blackwood* s Praise of **Adam Bcde^ 13

people, who seem to derive their notions from Ivy
Cottage,* have spoken to me of a supposed novel I
was going to bring out. Such things are damaging to
me.

Thanks for your disclaimer. It shows me that you Letter to
take a right view of the subject. There is no under- Bmy.
taking more fruitful of absurd mistakes than that of March,
"guessing" at authorship; and as I have never com-
municated to any one so much as an intention of a
literary kind, there can be none but imaginary data
for such guesses. If I withhold anything from my
friends which it would gratify them to know, you will
believe, I hope, that I have good reasons for doing
so, and I am sure those friends will understand me
when I ask them to further my object — ^which is not
a whim but a question of solid interest — by complete
silence. I can't afford to indulge either in vanity or
sentimentality about my work. I have only a trem-
bling anxiety to do what is in itself worth doing, and by
that honest means to win very necessary profit of a
temporal kind. " There is nothing hidden that shall
not be revealed " in due time. But till that time
comes — till I tell you myself, "This is the work of
my hand and brain "—-don't believe anything on the
subject. There is no one who is in the least likely to
know what I can, could, should, or would write.

April I, 1858. — Received a letter from Blackwood journal,
containing warm praise of " Adam Bede," but wanting
to know the rest of the story in outline before decid-
ing whether it should go in the Magazine. I wrote
in reply refusing to tell him the story.

On Wednesday evening, April 7th, we set off on

. > The Brays* new house.

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14 Journey to Munich. [Munich,

Journal, our journcy to Munich, and now we are comfortably
settled in our lodgings, where we hope to remain three
months at least I sit down in my first leisure mo-
ments to write a few recollections of our journey, or
rather of our twenty-four hours' stay at Niirnberg;
for the rest of our journey was mere endurance of
railway and steamboat in cold and sombre weather,
often rainy. I ought to except our way from Frank-
fort to Niirnberg, which lay for some distance — until
we came to Bamberg — through a beautifully varied
country. Our view both of Wurzburg and Bamberg,
as we hastily snatched it from our railway carriage,
was very striking — great old buildings, crowning
heights that rise up boldly from the plain in which
stand the main part of the towns. From Bamberg to
Niirnberg the way lay through a wide rich plain
sprinkled with towns. We had left all the hills be-
hind us. At Bamberg we were joined in our carriage
by a pleasant - looking elderly couple, who spoke to
each other and looked so affectionately that we said
directly, " Shall we be so when we are old ?*' It was
very pretty to see them hold each other's gloved
hands for a minute like lovers. As soon as we had
settled ourselves in our inn at Niirnberg — the Baier-
ische Hof — ^we went out to get a general view of the
town. Happily it was not raining, though there was
no sun to light up the roof and windows.

How often I had thought I should like to see Niirn-
berg, and had pictured to myself narrow streets with
dark quaint gables I The reality was not at all like
my picture, but it was ten times better. No sombre
coloring, except the old churches : all was bright and
varied, each facade having a different color — delicate
green, or. buff, or pink, or lilac — every now and then

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iSsS.] Niirnberg Roofs and Balconies. 15

set off by the neighborhood of a rich reddish brown, journal,
And the roofs always gave warmth of color with their ^ *' ^
bright red or rich purple tiles. T Every house differed v
from its neighbor, and had a physiognomy of its own, \
though a beautiful family likeness ran through them
all, as if the burghers of that old city were of one
heart and one soul, loving the same delightful out-
lines, and cherishing the same daily habits of simple
ease and enjoyment in their balcony -windows when
the day's work was done.

The balcony window is the secondary charm of the
Niirnberg houses ; it would be the principal charm of
any houses that had not the Niirnberg roofs and ga-
bles. It is usually in the centre of the building, on
the first floor, and is ornamented with carved stone or
wood, which supports it after the fashion of a bracket.
In several of these windows we saw pretty family
groups — young fair heads of girls or of little children,
with now and then an older head surmounting them.
One can fancy that these windows are the pet places
for family joys — that papa seats himself there when
he comes home from the warehouse, and the little
ones cluster round him in no time. But the glory
of the Niirnberg houses is the roofs, which are no
blank surface of mere tiling, but are alive with lights
and shadows, cast by varied and beautiful lines of
windows and pinnacles and arched openings. The
plainest roof in Niirnberg has its little windows lifting
themselves up like eyelids, and almost everywhere
one sees the pretty hexagonal tiles. But the better
houses have a central, open sort of pavilion in the
roof, with a pinnacle surmounted by a weathercock.
This pavilion has usually a beautifully carved arched
opening in front, set off by the dark background which

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!6 . Frauen-Kirche, Number g. [Munich,

Journal, ' is left bv the absence of glass. One fancies the old

April,i858. .,.. , * ,

Nurnbergers must have gone up to these pavilions
to smoke in the summer and autumn days. There is
usually a brood of small windows round this central
ornament, often elegantly arched and carved. A won-
derful sight it makes to see a series of such roofs sur-
mounting the tall, delicate-colored houses. They are
always high-pitched, of course, and the color of the
tiles was usually, of a bright red. I think one of the
most charming vistas we saw was the Adler-Gasse, on
the St. Lorenz side of the town. Sometimes, instead
of the high-pitched roof, with its pavilion and windows^
there is a richly ornamented gable fronting the street;
and still more frequently we get the gables at right
angles with the street at a break in the line of houses*
Coming back from the Burg we met a detachment
of soldiers, with their band playing, followed by a
stream of listening people; and then we reached the
market-place, just at the point where stands ** The
Beautiful Fountain " — an exquisite bit of florid Gothic
which has been restored in perfect conformity with
the original. Right before us stood the Frauen-Kirche^
with its fine and unusual ^frtr//<f, the chief beauty be-
ing a central chapel used as the choir, and added by
Adam Krafft. It is something of the shape of a mitre,
and forms a beautiful gradation of ascent towards the
summit of the/^f«//<f. \vVe heard the organ and were
tempted to enter, for this is the one Catholic Church
in Niirnberg. The delicious sound of the organ and
voices drew us farther and farther in among the stand-
ing people, and we stayed there I don't know how
long, till the music ceased. How the music warmed
one's heart ! I loved the good people about me, even
to the soldier who stood with his back to us, giving

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185S.] Effect of Catholic ''Functiany 17

us a full view of his close-cropped head, with its pale journal,
yellowish hair standing up in bristles on the crown, as
if his hat had acted like a forcing-pot. Then there
was a little baby in a close -fitting cap on its little
round head, looking round with bright black eyes as
it sucked its bit of bread. Such a funny little com-
plete face — rich brown complexion and miniature
Roman nose. And then its mother lifted it up that
it might see the rose-decked altar, where the priests
were standing. How music, that stirs all one's devout
emotions, blends everything into harmony — makes
one feel part of one whole which one loves all alike,
losing the sense of a separate self. Nothing could be
more wretched as art than the painted St. Veronica
opposite me, holding out the sad face on her miracu-
lous handkerchief. Yet it touched me deeply; and
the thought of the Man of Sorrows seemed a very
close thing — not a faint hearsay. :

We saw Albert Diirer's statue by Rauch, and Albert
Diirer's house — a striking bit of old building, rich
dark-brown, with a truncated gable and two wooden
galleries running along the gable end. My best wish-
es and thanks to the artists who keep it in repair and
use it for their meetings. The vistas from the bridges
.across the muddy Pegnitz, which runs through the
town, are all quaint and picturesque ; and it was here
that we saw some of the shabbiest -looVmg houses —
almost the only houses that carried any suggestion of
poverty, and even here it was doubtful. The town
has an air of cleanliness and well-being, and one longs
to call one of those balconied apartments one's own
home, with their flower-pots, clean glass, clean cur-
tains,, and transparencies turning their white backs to
the street. It iis pleasant to think there is such a

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1 8 The Pinacoihek. [Munich,

Journal, placc in the world where many people pass peaceful

April, 1 858.

lives. _
/ On arriving at Munich, after much rambling, we
found an advertisement of "Zwei elegant moblirte
Zimmer," No. 15 Luitpold Strasse ; and to our im-
mense satisfaction found something that looked like
cleanliness and comfort. The bargain was soon made
— twenty florins per month. So here we came last
Tuesday, the 13th April. We have been taking sips
of the Glyptothek and the two Pinacotheks in the
morning, not having settled to work yet. Last night we
went to the opera — Fra Diavolo^at the Hof-Theatre.
The theatre ugly, the singing bad. Still, the orchestra
was good, and the charming music made itself felt in
spite of German throats. I On Sunday, the nth, we
went to the Pinacothek, straight into the glorious
Rubens Saal. Delighted afresh in the picture of
"Samson and Delilah," both for the painting and
character of the figures. Delilah, a magnificent blonde,
seated in a chair, with a transparent white garment
slightly covering her body, and a rich red piece of
drapery round her legs, leans forward, with one hand
resting on her thigh, the other, holding the cunning
shears, resting on the chair — a posture which shows to
perfection the full, round, living arms. She turns her
head aside to look with sly triumph at Samson — a
tawny giant, his legs caught in the red drapery, shorn
of his long locks, furious with the consciousness that
the Philistines are upon him, and that this time he
cannot shake them off. Above the group of malicious
faces and grappling arms a hand holds a flaming torch.
Behind Delilah, and grasping her arm, leans forward an
old woman, with hard features full of exultation.
This picture, comparatively small in size, hangs be-

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1858.] '^Bavaria'' in Thcrcsicn Wiesc. 19

side the "Last Judgment," and in the corresponding Joanud.
space, on the other side of the same picture, hangs
the sublime " Crucifixion." Jesus alone, hanging dead
on the Cross, darkness over the whole earth. One
can desire nothing in this picture — the grand, sweet
calm of the dead face, calm and satisfied amidst all
the traces of anguish, the real, livid flesh, the thorough
mastery with which the whole form is rendered, and
the isolation of the supreme sufferer, make a picture
that haunts one like a remembrance of a friend's
death-bed.

April 12 (Monday). -^ Mttr reading Anna Mary
Howitt's book on Munich and Overbeck on Greek
art, we turned out into the delicious sunshine to walk
in the Theresien Wiese, and have our first look at the
colossal " Bavaria," the greatest work of Schwanthaler.
Delightful it was to get away from the houses into
this breezy meadow, where we heard the larks singing
above us. The sun was still too high in the west for
us to look with comfort at the statue, except right in
front of it, where it eclipsed the sun ; and this front
view is the only satisfactory one. The outline made
by the head and arm on a side view is almost pain-
fully ugly. But in front, looking up to the beautiful,
calm face, the impression it produces is sublime. I
have never seen anything, even in ancient sculpture,
of a more awful beauty than this dark, colossal head,
looking out from a background of pure, pale-blue sky.
We mounted the platform to have a view of her back,
and then walking forward, looked to our right hand
and saw the snow-covered Alps ! Sight more to me
than all the art in Munich, though I love the art nev-
ertheless. The great, wide-stretching earth and the
all-embracing sky — the birthright of us all — are what

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20 Natural Beauty Preferred, [Munich,

Journal, I carc most to look at And I feel intensely the new
**"'* ^ beauty of the sky here. The blue is so exquisitely
clear, and the wide streets give one such a broad can-
opy of sky. I felt more inspirited by our walk to the
Theresien Platz than by any pleasure we have had in
Munich.

April 1 6. — On Wednesday we walked to the The-
resien Wiese to look at the " Bavaria " by sunset, but
a shower came on and drove us to take refuge in a
pretty house built near the Ruhmeshalle, whereby we
were gainers, for we saw a charming family group : a
mother with her three children — the eldest a boy with
his book, the second a three-year-old maiden, the third
a sweet baby-girl of a year and a half ; two dogs, one
a mixture of the setter and pointer, the other a turn-
spit; and a relation or servant ironing. The baby
cried at the sight of G. in beard and spectacles, but
kept her eyes turning towards him from her mother's
lap, every now and then seeming to have overcome
her fears, and then bursting out crying anew. At last
she got down and lifted the table-cloth to peep at his
legs, as if to see the monster's nether parts.
Letter to We havc been just to take a sip at the two Pina-
H^fneur cotheks and at the Glyptothek. At present the Ru-
Isis. ^"' bens Saal is what I most long to return to. Rubens
gives me more pleasure than any other painter, wheth-
er that is right or wrong. To be sure, I have not seen
so many pictures, and pictures of so high a rank, by
any other great master. I feel sure that when I have
seen as much of Raphael I shall like him better ; but
at present Rubens, more than any one else, makes me
feel that painting is a great art, and that he was a
great artist. His are such real, breathing men and
women, moved by passions, not mincing and grimac-

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1858.] Catholic and Protestant Worship. 21

ing, and posing in mere aping of passion 1 What a Letter to
grand, glowing, forceful thing life looks in his pictures Henncii,
— the men such grand-bearded, grappling beings, fit Isss. ^ *
to do the work of the world; the women such real
mothers. We stayed at'Niirnberg only twenty -four
hours, and I felt sad to leave it so soon. A pity the
place became Protestant, so that there is only one
Catholic church where one can go in and out as one
would. We turned into the famous St. Sebald's for a
minute, where a Protestant clergyman was reading in
a cold, formal way under the grand Gothic arches.
Then we went to the Catholic church, the Frauen-
Kirche, where the organ and voices were giving forth
a glorious mass ; and we stood with a feeling of broth-,
erhood among the standing congregation till the last
note of the orgin had died out.

. Apfil 23. — Not being well enough to write, we de- Joumai,
termined to spend our morning at the Glyptothek and
Pinacothek. A glorious morning—all sunshine and
blue sky. We went to the Glyptothek first, and
delighted ourselves anew with the " Sleeping Faun,"
the " Satyr and Bacchus," and the " Laughing Faun "
(Fauno colla Macchia). Looked at the two young
satyrs reposing with the pipe in their hands — ^^one of
them charming in the boyish, good-humored beauty of
the face, but both wanting finish in the limbs, which
look almost as if they could be produced by a turn-
ing-machine. But the conception of this often-repeat-
ed figure is charming : it would make a garden seem
more peaceful in the sunshine. Looked at the old
Silenus too, which is excellent. I delight in these
figures, full of droll animation, flinging some nature,
in its broad freedom, in the eyes of small-mouthed,
mincing narrowness.

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22 Kaulbach — Bodenstedt. [iMunich,

jounuJ, We went into the modern Saal also, glancing on our
way at the Cornelius frescoes, which seem to me stiff
and hideous. An Adonis, by Thorwaldsen, is very
beautiful.

Then to the Pinacothek, where we looked at Albert
Diirer's portrait again, and many other pictures, among
which I admired a group by Jordaens : " A satyr eat-
ing, while a peasant shows him that he can blow hot
and cold at the same time;" the old grandmother
nursing the child, the father with the key in his hand,
with which he has been amusing baby, looking curi-
ously at the satyr, the handsome wife, still more eager
in her curiosity, the quiet cow, the little boy, the dog
and cat — all are charmingly conceived.

Apiil 24. — As we were reading this afternoon Herr
Oldenbourg came in, invited us to go to his house on
Tuesday, and chatted pleasantly for an hour. He
talked of Kaulbach, whom he has known very inti-
mately, being the publisher of the " Reineke Fuchs."
The picture of the " Hunnen Schlacht " was the fir^t
of Kaulbach's on a great scale. It created a sensa-
tion, and the critics began to call it a " Weltgeschicht-
liches Bild." Since then Kaulbach has been seduced
into the complex, wearisome, symbolical style, which
makes the frescoes at Berlin enormous puzzles.

When we had just returned from our drive in the
' Englische Garten, Bodenstedt pleasantly surprised us
by presenting himself. He is a charming man, and
promises to be a delightful acquaintance for us in this
strange town. He chatted pleasantly with us for half
an hour, telling us that he is writing a work, in five
volumes, on the "Contemporaries of Shakspeare,"
and indicating the nature of his treatment of the
Shakspearian drama — which is historical and ana-

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1858.] Munich Celebrities. 23

lytical. Presently he proposed that we should ad- journal,
journ to his house and have tea with him ; and so we
turned out all together in the bright moonlight, and
enjoyed his pleasant chat until ten o'clock. His wife
was not at home,- but we were admitted to see the
three sleeping children — one a baby about a year and
a half old, a lovely waxen thing. He gave the same
account of Kaulbach as we had heard from Olden-
bourg ; spoke of Genelli as superior in genius, though
he has not the fortune to be recognized ; recited some
of Hermann Lingg's poetry, and spoke enthusiastical-
ly of its merits. There was not a word of detraction
about any one — nothing to jar on one's impression of
him as a refined, noble-hearted man.

April 27. — This has been a red-letter day. In the
morning Professor Wagner took us over his " Petri-
facten Sammlung," giving us interesting explanations ;
and before we left him we were joined by Professor
Martius, an animated, clever man, who talked admira-
bly, and invited us to his house. Then we went to
Kaulbach's studio, talked with him, and saw with es-
pecial interest the picture he is preparing as a present
to the New Museum. In the evening, after walking
in the Theresien Wiese, we went to Herr Olden-
bourg's, and met Liebig the chemist, Geibel and
Heyse the poets, and Carribre, the author of a work
on the Reformation.^ Liebig is charming, with well-
cut features, a low, quiet voice, and gentle manners.
It was touching to see his hands, the nails black from
the roots, the skin all grimed.

Heyse is like a painter's poet, ideally beautiful;
rather brilliant in his talk, and altogether pleasing.
Geibel is a man of rather coarse texture, with a voice
like a kettledrum, and a steady determination to de-

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24 Music of the ^'Faust^' [Munich,

Journal, liver his opinions on every subject that turned up.
' ^ ' But there was a good deal of ability in his remarks.

April 30. — After calling on Frau Oldenbourg, and
then at Professor Bodenstedt*s, where we played with
his charming children for ten minutes, we went to
the theatre to hear Prince RadziwilFs music to the
"Faust." I admired especially the earlier part, the
Easter morning song of the spirits, the Beggar's song,
and other things, until after the scene in Auerbach's
cellar, which is set with much humor and fancy. But
the scene between Faust and Marguerite is bad—
" Meine Ruh ist hin " quite pitiable, and the " Konig
im Thule" not good. Gretchen's second song, in
which she implores help of the Schmerzensreiche,
touched me a good deal.

May I. — In the afternoon Bodenstedt called, and
we agreed to spend the evening at his house — a de-
lightful evening. Professor Loher, author of " Die
Deutschen in America," and another much younger
Gelehrter^VihosQ name I did not seize, were there.

May 2. — Still rainy and cold. We went to the
Pinacothek, and looked at the old pictures in the first
and second Saal. There are some very bad and some
fine ones by Albert Diirer : of the latter, a full length
figure of the Apostle Paul, with the head of Mark be-
side him, in a listening attitude, is the one that most
remains with me. There is a very striking " Adora-
tion* of the Magi," by Johannes van Eyck, with much
merit in the coloring, perspective, and figures. Also,
" Christ carrying his Cross," by Albert Diirer, is strik-
ing. " A woman raised from the dead by the impo-
sition of the Cross " is a very elaborate composition,
by Bohms, in which the faces are of first - rate ex-
cellence.

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1858.] Admiration of Liebig, 2$

In the evening we went to the opera and saw the Jonmai,
" Nord Stern." '^^

May 10. — Since Wednesday I have had a wretched
cold and cough, and been otherwise ill, but I have had
several pleasures nevertheless. On Friday, Boden-
stedt called with Baron Schack to take us to Genelli*s,
the artist of whose powers Bodenstedt had spoken to
us with enthusiastic admiration. The result to us was
nothing but disappointment; the sketches he showed
us seemed to us quite destitute of any striking merit.
On Sunday we dined with Liebig, and spent the even-
ing at Bodenstedt's, where we met Professor Blunt-
schli, the jurist, a very intelligent and agreeable man,
and Melchior Meyr, a maker of novels and tragedies,
otherwise an ineffectual personage.

Our life here is very agreeable — full of pleasant Letter to
novelty, although we take things quietly and observe Henneii,
our working hours just as if we were at Richmond, isss.
People are so kind to us that we feel already quite at
home, sip baierisch Bier with great tolerance, and talk
bad German with more and more aplomb. The place,
you know, swarms with professors of all sorts — all
griindlich, of course, and one or two of them great.
There is no one we are more charmed with than Lie-
big. Mr. Lewes had no letter to him — we merely met
him at an evening party ; yet he has been particularly
kind to us, and seems to have taken a benevolent lik-
ing to me. We dined with him and his family yester-
day, and saw how men of European celebrity may put
up with greasy cooking in private life. He lives in
very good German style, however ; has a handsome
suite of apartments, and makes a greater figure than
most of the professors. His manners are charming
— easy, graceful, benignant, and all the more conspicu-
II.— 2

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26 The^'Tafel-rund'' [Munich,

Letter to ous becausc he is so quiet and low spoken among the
Henneii, loud talkcFs here. He looks best in his laboratory,
Jsss. *^' with his velvet cap on, holding little phials in his hand,
and talking of Kreatine and Kreatinine in the same
easy way that well-bred ladies talk scandal. He is
one of the professors who has been called here by the
present king — Max — ^who seems to be a really sensi-
ble man among kings ; gets up at five o'clock in the
morning to study, and every Saturday evening has a
gathering of the first men in science and literature,
that he may benefit by their opinions on important
subjects. At this Tafel-rund every man is required to
say honestly what he thinks ; every one may contra-
dict every one else ; and if the king suspects any one
of a polite insincerity, the too polished man is invited
no more. Liebig, the three poets — Geibel, Heyse, and
Bodenstedt — and Professor Loher, a writer of consid-
erable mark, are always at the Tafel-rund as an un-
derstood part of their functions ; the rest are invited
according to the king's direction. Bodenstedt is one
of our best friends here — enormously instructed,
after the fashion of Germans, but not at all stupid
with it.

We were at the Siebolds' last night to meet a party
of celebrities, and, what was better, to see the prettiest
little picture of married life — the great comparative
anatomist (Siebold) seated at the piano in his specta-
cles playing the difficult accompaniments to Schubert's
songs, while his little round-faced wife sang them with
much taste and feeling. They are not young. Sie-
bold is gray, and probably more than fifty ; his wife
perhaps nearly forty ; and it is all the prettier to see
their admiration of each other. She said to Mr.

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1

1858.] Modern German Art. 27

Lewes, when he was speaking of her husband, " Ja, er Letter to
ist ein netter Mann, nicht wahr ?" * Hmnefir

We take the art in very small draughts at present Isss. *^*
— the German hours being difficult to adjust to our
occupations. We are obliged to dine at one / and of
course when we are well enough must work till then.
Two hours afterwards all the great public exhibitions
are closed, except the churches. I cannot admire
much of the modern German art. It is for the most
part elaborate lifelessness. Kaulbach's great compo-
sitions are huge charades ; and I have seen nothing
of his equal to his own " Reineke Fuchs." It is an
unspeakable relief, after staring at one of his pictures
— the "Destruction of Jerusalem," for example, which
is a regular child's puzzle of symbolism — to sweep it
all out of one's mind — which is very easily done, for
nothing grasps you in it — and call up in your imagi-
nation a little Gerard Dow that you have seen hanging
in a corner of one of the cabinets. We have been to
his atelier^ and he has given us a proof of his " Irren-
haus," ' a strange sketch, which he made years ago —
very terrible and powerful. He is certainly a man of
great faculty, but is, I imagine, carried out of his true
path by the ambition to produce " Weltgeschichtliche
Bilder," which the German critics may go into raptures
about. His " Battle of the Huns," which is the most
impressive of all his great pictures, was the first of the
series. He painted it simply under the inspiration of
the grand myth about the spirits of the dead warriors
rising and carrying on the battle in the air. Straight-
way the German critics began to smoke furiously that

' He is really a charming man, is he not ?
' Picture of interior of a Lunatic Asylum.

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28

Professor Martius's Family. [Munich,

Letter to vilc tobacco which they call (Bsthetik^ declared it a
HMneS!^ " Weltgeschichtliches Bild," and ever since Kaulbach
1858. *. has been concocting these pictures in which, instead
of taking ^fiing^^ "^^'"fint ftf Xt?X\\^ and trusting to
the infinite symbolism that belongs to all nature, he
attempts to give you at one view a succession of events
— each represented by some group which may mean
" Whichever you please, my little dear."

I must tell you something else which interested me
greatly, as the first example of the kind that has come
under my observation. Among the awful mysterious
names, hitherto known only as marginal references
whom we have learned to clothe with ordinary flesh
and blood, is Professor Martins (Spix and Martins),
now an old man, and rich after the manner of being
rich in Germany. He has a very sweet wife — one of
those women who remain pretty and graceful in old
age — and a family of three daughters and one son,
all more than grown up. I learned that she is Catho-
lic, that her daughters are Catholic, and her husband
and son Protestant — the children having been so
brought up according to the German law in cases of
mixed marriage. I can't tell you how interesting it
was to me to hear her tell of her experience in bring-
ing up her son conscientiously as a Protestant, and
then to hear her and her daughters speak of the ex-
emplary priests who had shown them such tender fa-
therly care when they were in trouble. They are the
most harmonious, affectionate family we have seen ;
and one delights in such a triumph of human goodness
over the formal logic of theorists.
Journal, May 13. — Geibel came and brought me the two vol-
' ^ umes of his poelns, and stayed chatting for an hour.

We spent the evening quietly at home.

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1858.] The Neue Pinacothek. 29

May 14. — After writing, we went for an hour to the Joumai,
Pinacothek, and looked at some of the Flemish pict-
ures. In the afternoon we called at Liebig's, and he
went a long walk with us — the long chain of snowy
mountains in the hazy distance. After supper I read
Geibers " Junius Lieder."

May 15. — Read the i8th chapter of "Adam Bede"
to G. He was much pleased with it. Then v^ walked
in the Englische Garten, and heard the band, and
saw the Germans drinking their beer. The park was
lovely.

May 16. — \Wq were to have gone to Grosshesselohe
with the Siebolds, and went to Friihstiick with them at
12, as a preliminary. Bodenstedt was there to accom-
pany us. But heavy rain came on, and we spent the
time till 5 o'clock in talking, hearing music, and listen-
ing to Bodenstedt*s " Epic on the destruction of Nov-
gorod." About seven, Liebig came to us and asked
us to spend the evening at his house. We went and
found Voelderndorff, Bischoff and his wife, and Car-
rifere and Frau.

May 20. — As I had a feeble head this morning, we
gave up the time to seeing pictures, and went to the
Neue Pinacothek, A " Lady with Fruit, followed by
three Children," pleased us more than ever. It is by
Wichmann. The two interiors of Westminster Abbey
by Ainmueller admirable. Unable to admire Roth-
mann*s Greek Landscapes, which have a room to
themselves. Ditto Kaulbach's " Zerstorung von Jeru-
salem."

We went for the first time to see the collection of
porcelain paintings, and had really a rich treat. Many
of them are admirable copies of great pictures. The
sweet '* Madonna and Child," in Raphael's early man-

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30 The Bodenstedts, [Munich,

jonnuU, ner; a " Holy Family," also in the early manner, with
* * a Madonna the exact type of the St. Catherine \ and

a " Holy Family " in the later manner, something like
the Madonna Delia Sedia, are all admirably copied.
So are two of Andrea del Sarto's — full of tenderness
and calm piety.

May 23. — Through the cold wind and white dust
we went to the Jesuits' Church to hear the music. It
is a fine church in the Renaissance style, the vista
terminating with the great altar very fine, with all the
crowd of human beings covering the floor. Numbers
of men !

In the evening we went to Bodenstedt's, and saw
his wife for the first time — a delicate creature who
sang us some charming Bavarian Volkslkder, On
Monday we spent the evening at Loher*s — Baum-
garten, ein junger Historiker^ Oldenbourg, and the
Bodenstedts meeting us.

Delicious Mai-trank^ made by putting the fresh
Waldtneister — a cruciferous plant with a small white
flower, something like Lady's Bedstraw — into mild
wine, together with sugar, and occasionally other
things.

May 26. — ^This evening I have read aloud " Adam
Bede," chapter xx. We have begun Ludwig's " Zwis-
chen Himmel und Erde."

May 27. — We called on the Siebolds to-day, then
walked in the Theresien Wiese, and saw the moun-
tains gloriously. Spent the evening at Prof. Martius's,
where Frau Erdl played Beethoven's Andante and the
Moonlight Sonata admirably.

May 28. — We heard from Blackwood this morning.
Good news in general, but the sale of our books not
progressing at present.

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1858.] The Munich Climate. 31

It is invariably the case that when people discover Letter to
^certain points of coincidence in a fiction with facts Wadc-
that happen to have come to their knowledge, they May/iSss.
believe themselves able to furnish a key to the whole.
That is amusing enough to the author, who knows
from what widely sundered portions of experience —
from what a combination of subtle, shadowy sugges-
tions, with certain actual objects and events, his story
has been formed. It would be a very difficult thing
for me to furnish a key to my stories myself. But
where there is no exact memory of the past, any story
with a few remembered points of character or of in-
cident may pass for a history.

We pay for our sight of the snowy mountains here
by the most capricious of climates. English weather
is steadfast compared with Munich weather. You go
to dinner here in summer and come away from it in
winter. You are languid among trees and feathery
grass at one end of the town, and are shivering in a
hurricane of dust at the other. This inconvenience
of climate, with the impossibility of dining (well) at
any other hour than one o'clock is not friendly to the
stomach — ^that great seat of the imagination. And I
shall never advise an author to come to Munich except
ad interim. The great Saal, full of Rubens's pictures,
is worth studying ; and two or three precious bits of
sculpture, and the sky on a fine day, always puts one
in a good temper — it is so deliciously clear and blue,
making even the ugliest buildings look beautiful by
the light it casts on them.

May 30. — ^We heard "William Tell" — a great en- journal,

i8c8.

joyment to me.

June I. — To Grosshesselohe with a party. Siebold
and his wife, Prof. Loher, Fraulein von List, Fraulein

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32 Sympathy with Miss HennelL [Munich,

Journal, Thiersch, Frau von Schaden and her pretty daughter.

' * It was very pretty to see Siebold^s delight in nature

— the Libellulae, the Blindworm, the crimson and black
Cicadae, the Orchidae. The strange whim of Schwan-
thaler's — the Burg von Schwaneck — was our desti-
nation.

yune 10. — For the last week my work has been
rather scanty owing to bodily ailments. I am at the
end of chapter xxi., and am this morning going to
begin chapter xxii. In the interim our chief pleas-
ure had been a trip to Stamberg by ourselves.

yutu 13. — This morning at last free from headache,
and able to write. I am entering on my history of
the birthday with some fear and trembling. This
evening we walked, between eight and half-past nine,
in the Wiese, looking towards Nymphenburg. The
light delicious — the west glowing ; the faint crescent
moon and Venus pale above it ; the larks filling the
air with their songs, which seemed only a little way
above the ground.

Letter to Words are very clumsy things. I like less and less

HenncU, to handle my friends' sacred feelincrs with them. For

14th June, °

1858. even those who call themselves intimate know very
little about each other — hardly ever know just how a
sorrow is felt, and hurt each other by their very at-
tempts at sympathy or consolation. We can bear no
hand on our bruises. And so I feel I have no right
to say that I know how the loss of your mother —
" the only person who ever leaned on you " — affects
you. I only know that it must make a deeply-felt
crisis in your life, and I know that the better from
having felt a great deal about my own mother and
father, and from having the keenest remembrance of
all that experience. But for this very reason I know

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1858.] on Mrs. HenneWs Death. 33

that I c^n't measure what the event is to you ; and if Letter to
I were near you I should only kiss you and say noth- Henneii,
ing. People talk of the feelings dying out as one gets Isss. ""^
older ; but at present my experience is just the con-
trary. ^All the serious relations of life become so
much more real to me — ^pleasure seems so slight a
thing, and sorrow and duty and endurance so great, n
I find the least bit of real human life touch me in a
way it never did when I was younger.

yune 17. — ^This evening G. left me to set out on-joumai,
his journey to Hofwyl to see his boys.

yune 18. — Went with the Siebolds to Nymphen-
burg ; called at Professor Knapp's, and saw Liebig's
sister, Frau Knapp — a charming, gentle - mannered
woman, with splendid dark eyes.

yune 22. — Tired of loneliness, I went to the Frau
von Siebold, chatted with her over tea, and then heard
some music.

yune 23. — My kind little friend (Frau von Siebold)
brought me a lovely bouquet of roses this morning,
and invited me to go with them in the evening to the
theatre to see the new comedy, the " Drei Candidaten,"
which I did : a miserably poor affair.

yune 24. — G. came in the evening, at 10 o'clock —
after I had suffered a great deal in thinking of the
possibilities that might prevent him from coming.

yune 25. — This morning I have read to G. all I
have written during his absence, and he approves it
more than I expected.

yuly 7. — This morning we left Munich, setting out
in the rain to Rosenheim by railway. The previous
day we dined, and sat a few hours with the dear,
charming Siebolds, and parted from them with regret
— ^glad to leave Munich, but not to leave the friends
2*

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34 Journey by Chiem See. [Munich,

Journal, who had been so kind to us. For a week before I
had been ill — almost a luxury, because of the love
that tended me. But the general languor and sense
of depression produced by Munich air and way of
life was no luxury, and I was glad to say a last good-
bye to the quaint pepper-boxes of the Frauen-Kirche.

Munich to At the Rosenheim station we got into the longest

Dresden, ** ^

1858. of omnibuses, which took us to the Gastkof^ where we
were to dine and lunch, and then mount into the SUli-
wagen^ which would carry us to Prien, on the borders
of the Chiem See. Rosenheim is a considerable and
rather quaint-looking town, interrupted by orchards
and characterized in a passing glance by the piazzas
that are seen everywhere fronting the shops. It has
a grand view of the mountains, still a long way off.
The afternoon was cloudy, with intermittent rain, and
did not set off the landscape. Nevertheless, I had
much enjoyment in this four or five hours' journey to
Prien. The little villages, with picturesque, wide ga-
bles, projecting roofs, and wooden galleries — with
abundant orchards — ^with felled trunks of trees and
stacks of fir-wood, telling of the near neighborhood
of the forest— were what I liked best in this ride.

We had no sooner entered the steamboat to cross
the Chiem See than it began to rain heavily, and I
kept below, only peeping now and then at the moun-
tains and the green islands, with their monasteries.
From the opposite bank of the See we had a grand
view of the mountains, all dark purple under the
clouded sky. Before us was a point where the nearer
mountains opened and allowed us a view of their more
distant brethren receding in a fainter and fainter blue
— a marsh in the foreground, where the wild -ducks
were flying. Our drive from this end of the lake to

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1858.1 Traunstein. 35

Traunstein was lovely — through fertile, cultivated Munich to
land, ever)rwhere married to bits of forest. The green 1858.
meadow or the golden corn sloped upward towards
pine woods, or the bushy greenness seemed to run
with wild freedom far out into long promontories
among the ripening crops. Here and there the coun-
try had the aspect of a grand park from the beautiful
intermingling of wood and field, without any line of
fence.

Then came the red sunset, and it was dark when
we entered Traunstein, where we had to pass the
night. Among our companions in the day's journey
had been a long-faced, cloaked, slow and solemn man,
whom George called the author of " Eugene Aram,"
and I Don Quixote, he was so given to serious re-
monstrance with the vices he met on the road. We
had been constantly deceived in the length of our
stages — on the principle, possibly, of keeping up our
spirits. The next morning there was the same ten-
derness shown about the starting of the Siell-wagen:
at first it was to start at seven, then at half-past, then
when another Wagen came with its cargo of passen-
gers. This was too much for Don Quixote ; and when
the stout, red-faced Wirth had given him still another
answer about the time of starting, he began, in slow
and monotonous indignation, " Warum liigen sie so ?
Sie werden machen dass kein Mensch diesen Weg
kommen wird," * etc. Whereupon the Wirth looked
red-faced, stout, and unwashed as before, without any
perceptible expression of face supervening.

The next morning the weather looked doubtful, and

' " Why do you tell such lies ? The result of it will be that no
one will travel this way."

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36 Description of Scenery. [Ischl,

Munich to SO wc gavc up going to the Konig See for that day,
1858. determining to ramble on the Monchsberg and enjoy
the beauties of Salzburg instead. The morning bright-
ened as the sun ascended, and we had a delicious
ramble on the Monchsberg — looking down on the
lovely, peaceful plain, below the grand old Unters-
berg, where the sleeping Kaiser awaits his resurrec-
tion in that "good time coming;" watching the white
mist floating along the sides of the dark mountains,
and wandering under the shadow of the plantation,
where the ground was green with luxuriant hawkweed,
as at Nymphenburg, near Munich. The outline of
the castle and its rock is remarkably fine, and remind-
ed us of Gorey in Jersey. But we had a still finer
view of it when we drove out to Aigen. On our way
thither we had sight of the Watzmann, the highest
mountain in Bavarian Tyrol — emerging from behind
the great shoulder of the Untersberg. It was the
only mountain within sight that had snow on its sum-
mit. Once at Aigen, and descended from our car-
riage, we had a delicious walk, up and up, along a
road of continual steps, by thie course of the moun-
tain-stream, which fell in a series of cascades over
great heaps of bowlders ; then back again, by a round-
about way, to our vehicle and home, enjoying the
sight of old Watzmann again, and the grand mass of
Salzburg Castle on its sloping rock.

We encountered a table -d^hbte acquaintance who
had been to Berchtesgaden and the Konig See, driven
through the salt-mine, and had had altogether a per-
fect expedition on this day, when we had not had the
courage to set off. Never mind ! we had enjoyed our
day.
We thought it wisest the next morning to renounce

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1S58.] The Gmunden See. 37

the Konig See, and pursue our way to Ischl by the Munich to
Steli-wagen. We were fortunate enough to secure two 1858.
places in the coup^, and I enjoyed greatly the quiet
outlook, from my comfortable corner, on the chang-
ing landscape — green valley and hill and mountain ;
here and there a picturesque Tyrolese village, and
once or twice a fine lake.

The greatest charm of charming Ischl is the crystal
Traun, surely the purest of streams. Away again
early the next morning in the coupi of the Steli-wagen^
through a country more and more beautiful — high,
woody mountains sloping steeply down to narrow,
fertile, green valleys, the road winding amongst them
so as to show a perpetual variety of graceful outlines
where the sloping mountains met in the distance be-
fore us. As we approached the Gmunden See the
masses became grander and more rocky, and the val-
ley opened wider. It was Sunday, and when we left
tht Steil'Wagen we found quite a crowd in Sunday
clothes standing round the place of embarkation for
the steamboat that was to take us along the lake.
Gmunden is another pretty place at the head of the
lake, but apart from this one advantage inferior to
Ischl. We got on to the slowest of railways here,
getting down at the station near the falls of the
Traun, where we dined at the pleasant inn, and fed
our eyes on the clear river again hurrying over the
rocks. Behind the great fall there is a sort of inner
chamber, where the water rushes perpetually over a
stone altar. At the station, as we waited for the train,
it began to rain, and the good-natured looking woman
asked us to take shelter in her little station-house — a
single room not more than eight feet square, where
she lived with her husband and two little girls all the

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38 Voyage dawn the Danube. [Vienna,

Munich to year round. The good couple looked more contented
i85«- than half the well-lodged people in the world. He
used to be a drozchky driver ; and after that life of
uncertain gains, which had many days quite penniless
and therefore dinnerless, he found his present position
quite a pleasant lot.

On to Linz, when the train came, gradually losing
sight of the Tyrolean mountains and entering the
great plain of the Danube. Our voyage the next day
in the steamboat was unfortunate : we had incessant
rain till we had passed all the finest parts of the
banks. But when we had landed, the sun shone out
brilliantly, and so our entrance into Vienna, through
the long suburb, with perpetual shops and odd names
(Prschka, for example, which a German in our omnibus
thought not at all remarkable for consonants 1) was
quite cheerful. We made our way through the city
and across the bridge to the Weissen Ross, which was
full ; so we went to the Drei Rosen, which received
us. The sunshine was transient; it began to rain
again when we went out to look at St Stephen's, but
the delight of seeing that glorious building could not
be marred by a little rain. The tower of this church
is worth going to Vienna to see.

The aspect of the city is that of an inferior Paris ;
the shops have an elegance that one sees nowhere else
in Germany ; the streets are clean, the houses tall and
stately. The next morning we had a view of the town
from the Belvedere Terrace ; St. Stephen's sending its
exquisite tower aloft from among an almost level forest
of houses and inconspicuous churches. It is a mag-
nificent collection of pictures at the Belvedere; but
we were so unfortunate as only to be able to see them
once, the gallery being shut up on the Wednesday ;

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1858.] Hyrtly the Anatomist, 39

and so, many pictures have faded from my memory, Munich to
even of those which I had time to distinguish. Titian's 1858.
Danae was one that delighted us ; besides this I re-
member Giorgione's Lucrezia Borgia, with the cruel,
cruel eyes ; the remarkable head of Christ ; a proud
Italian face in a red garment, I think by Correggio ;
and two heads by Denner, the most wonderful of all
his wonderful heads that I have seen. There is an
Ecce Homo by Titian which is thought highly of, and
is splendid in composition and color, but the Christ is
abject, the Pontius Pilate vulgar ; amazing that they
could have been painted by the same man who con-
ceived and executed the Christo della Moneta ! There
are huge Veroneses, too, splendid and interesting.

The Liechtenstein collection we saw twice, and that
remains with me much more distinctly — the room full
of Rubens's history of Decius, more magnificent even
than he usually is in color; then his glorious Assump-
tion of the Virgin, and opposite to it the portraits of
his two boys ; the portrait of his lovely wife going to
the bath with brown drapery round her ; and the fine
portraits by Vandyke, especially the pale, delicate face
of Wallenstein, with blue eyes and pale auburn locks.

Another great pleasure we had at Vienna — next
after the sight of St. Stephen's and the pictures — was
a visit to Hyrtl, the anatomist, who showed us some
of his wonderful preparations, showing the vascular
and nervous systems in the lungs, liver, kidneys, and
intestinal canal of various animals. He told us the
deeply interesting story of the loss of his fortune in
the Vienna revolution of '48. He was compelled by
the revolutionists to attend on the wounded for three
days' running. When at last he came to his house to
change his clothes he found nothing but four bare

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40 Vienna to Prague. [Prague.

Munich to walls ! His fortune in Government bonds was burned
i8s«. "* along with the house, as well as all his precious col-
lection of anatomical preparations, etc. He told us
that since that great shock his nerves have been so
susceptible that he sheds tears at the most trifling
events, and has a depression of spirits which often
keeps him silent for days. He only received a very
slight sum from Government in compensation for his
loss.

One evening we strolled in the Volksgarten and saw
the " Theseus killing the Centaur," by Canova, which
stands in a temple built for its reception. But the
garden to be best remembered by us was that at
Schonbrunn, a labyrinth of stately avenues with their
terminal fountains. We amused ourselves for some
time with the menagerie here, the lions especially, who
lay in dignified sleepiness till the approach of feeding-
time made them open eager eyes and pace impatiently
about their dens.

We set off from Vienna in the evening with a family
of Wallachians as our companions, one of whom, an
elderly man, could speak no German, and began to
address G. in Wallachian, as if that were the common
language of all the earth. We managed to sleep
enough for a night's rest, in spite of intense heat and
our cramped positions, and arrived in very good con-
dition at Prague in the fine morning.

Out we went after breakfast, that we might see as
much as possible of the grand old city in one day ;
and our morning was occupied chiefly in walking
about and getting views of striking exteriors. The
most interesting things we saw were the Jewish burial-
ground (the Alter Friedhof) and the old synagogue.
The Friedhof is unique — with a wild growth of grass

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1858.] Sights of Prague. 41

and shrubs and trees, and a multitude of quaint tombs Munich to
in all sorts of positions, looking like the fragments of 1858.
a great building, or as if they had been shaken by an
earthquake. We saw a lovely dark-eyed Jewish child
here, which we were glad to kiss in all its dirt. Then
came the sombre old synagogue, with its smoked
groins, and lamp forever burning. An intelligent Jew
was our cicerone^ and read us some Hebrew out of the
precious old book of the law.

After dinner we took a carriage and went across
the wonderful bridge of St. Jean Nepomuck, with its
avenue of statues, towards the Radschin — an ugly,
straight - lined building, but grand in effect from its
magnificent site, on the summit of an eminence crowd-
ed with old, massive buildings. The view from this
eminence is one of the most impressive in the world
— perhaps as much from one's associations with
Prague as from its visible grandeur and antiquity.
The cathedral close to the Radschin is a melancholy
object on the outside — left with unfinished sides like
scars. The interior is rich, but sadly confused in its
ornamentation, like so many of the grand old churches
— hideous altars of bastard style disgracing exquisite
Gothic columns — cruellest of all in St. Stephen's at
Vienna !

We got our view from a Datnen Stift^ (for ladies of
family), founded by Maria Theresa, whose blond
beauty looked down on us from a striking portrait.
Close in front of us, sloping downwards, was a pleas-
ant orchard ; then came the river, with its long, long
bridge and grand gateway; then the sober-colored
city, with its surrounding plain and distant hills. In

' Charitable Institution for Ladies.

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42 Journey to Dresden. [Dresden,

Munich to the evening we went to the theatre — ^a shabby, ugly
1858. * building — and heard Spohr's Jessonda.

The next morning early by railway to Dresden — a
charming journey, for it took us right through the
Saxon Switzerland, with its castellated rocks and firs.
At four o'clock we were dining comfortably at the
Hotel de Pologne, and the next morning (Sunday) we
secured our lodgings — a whole apartment of six rooms,
all to ourselves, for iSj. per week! By nine o'clock
we were established in our new home, where we were
to enjoy six weeks' quiet work, undisturbed by visits
and visitors. And so we did. We were as happy as
princes — are not — George writing at the far corner of
the great salon^ I at my Schrank in my own private
room, with closed doors. Here I wrote the latter half
of the second volume of "Adam Bede" in the long
mornings that our early hours — rising at six o'clock —
secured us. Three mornings in the week we went to
the Picture Gallery from twelve -till one. The first
day we went was a Sunday, when there is always a
crowd in the Madonna Cabinet. I sat down on the
sofa opposite the picture for an instant, but a sort of
awe, as if I were suddenly in the living presence of
some glorious being, made my heart swell too much
for me to remain comfortably, and we hurried out of
the room. On subsequent mornings we always came
in, the last minutes of our stay, to look at this sublim-
est picture, and while the others, except the Christo
della Moneta and Holbein's Madonna, lost much of
their first interest, this became harder and harder to
leave. Holbein's Madonna is very exquisite — a di-
vinely gentle, golden-haired blonde, with eyes cast
down, in an attitude of unconscious, easy grace — the
loveliest of all the Madonnas in the Dresden Gallery

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1858.] The Dresden Picture Gallery. 43

except the Sistine. By tlie side of it is a wonderful
portrait by Holbein, which I especially enjoyed look- 1858.
ingat. It represents nothing more lofty than a plain,
weighty man of business, a goldsmith ; but the emi-
nently fine painting brings out all the weighty, calm,
good sense that lies in a first-rate character of that
order.

We looked at the Zinsgroschen (Titian's), too, every
day, and after that at the great painter's Venus, fit for
its purity and sacred loveliness to hang in a temple
with Madonnas. Palma's Venus, which hangs near,
was an excellent foil, because it is pretty and pure in
itself ; but beside the Titian it is common and unmean-
ing.

Another interesting case of comparison was that
between the original Zinsgroschen and a copy by an
Italian painter, which hangs on the opposite wall of
the cabinet. This is considered a fine copy, and
would be a fine picture if one had never seen the orig-
inal ; but all the finest effects are gone in the copy.

The four large Correggios hanging together — the
Nacht; the Madonna with St. Sebastian, of the smiling
graceful character, with the little cherub riding astride
a cloud ; the Madonna with St. Hubert ; and a third
Madonna, very grave and sweet — painted when he
was nineteen — remained with me very vividly. They
are full of life, though the life is not of a high order 5
and I should have surmised, without any previous
knowledge, that the painter was among the first mas-
ters of technique. The Magdalen is sweet in concep-
tion, but seems to have less than the usual merit of
Correggio's pictures as to painting. A picture we de-
lighted in extremely was one of Murillo's — St. Rod-
riguez, fatally wounded, receiving the Crown of Mar-

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44 Dresden Pictures. [Dresden,

tyrdom. The attitude and expression are sublime,

Dresden, ^

1858. and strikingly distinguished from all other pictures
of saints I have ever seen. He stands erect in his
scarlet and white robes, with face upturned, the arms
held simply downward, but the hands held open in a
receptive attitude. The silly cupid-like angel holding
the martyr's crown in the comer spoils all.

I did not half satisfy my appetite for the rich col-
lection of Flemish and Dutch pictures here — ^for Ten-
iers, Ryckart, Gerard Dow, Terburg, Mieris, and the
rest. Rembrandt looks great here in his portraits,
but I like none of the other pictures by him; the
Ganymede is an offence. Guido is superlatively
odious in his Christs, in agonized or ecstatic attitudes
— much about the level of the accomplished London
beggar. Dear, grand old Rubens does not show to
great advantage, except in the charming half-length
Diana returning from Hunting, the Love Garden, and
the sketch of his Judgment of Paris.

The most popular Murillo, and apparently one of

the most popular Madonnas in the gallery, is the

simple, sad mother with her child, without the least

divinity in it, suggesting a dead or sick father, and

•fteperfect nourishment in a garret. In that light it

is touching. A fellow-traveller in the railway to

Leipzig told us he had seen this picture in 1848 with

nine bullet holes in it! The firing from the hotel

of the Stadt Rom bore directly on the Picture Gallery.

Veronese is imposing in one of the large rooms—

the Adoration of the Magi, the Marriage at Cana, the

Finding of Moses, etc., making grand masses of color

on the lower part of the walls ; but to me he is ignoble

as3 painter of human beings.

/It was a charming life — our six weeks at Dresden.

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1858.] Life at Dresden, 45

There were the open-air concerts at the Grosser Garten iMmitiin

Dresden)

and the Briihrsche Terrace; the Sommer Theater, [858.
where we saw our favorite comic actor Merbitz ; the
walks into the open country, with the grand stretch of .
sky all round ; the Zouaves, with their wondrous make- \
ups as women ; Rader, the humorous comedian at the ;
Sink'sche Bad Theater; our quiet afternoons in our
pleasant salon — all helping to make an agreeable
fringe to the quiet working time,
y^^ince I wrote to you last I have lived through a Letter to

' , , . ... T-.' 1 «• Miss Sara

great deal of exquisite pleasure. First an attack of HcnncU,
illness during our last week at Munich, which I reck- 1858. ^'
on among my pleasures because I was nursed so
tenderly. Then a fortnight's unspeakable journey
to Salzburg, Ischl, Linz, Vienna, Prague, and finally
Dresden, which is our last resting-place before returning
to Richmond, where we hope to be at the beginning
of September. Dresden is a proper climax ; for all
other art seems only a preparation for feeling the su-
periority of the Madonna di San Sisto the more. We
go three days a week to the gallery, and every day —
after looking at other pictures — we go to take a part-
ing draught of delight at Titian's Zinsgroschen and
the Einzige Madonna. In other respects I am par-
ticularly enjoying our residence here — we are so quiet,
having determined to know no one and give ourselves
up to work. We both feel a happy change in our
health from leaving Munich, though I am reconciled
to our long stay there by the fact that Mr. Lewes
gained so much from his intercourse with the men of /
science there, especially Bischoff, Siebold, and Harless. y
I remembered your passion for autographs, and asked
Liebig for his on your account. I was not sure that
you would care enough about the handwriting of other

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46 Renewed Acquaintance with Strauss. [Dresden,

Letter to luminaries; for there is such a thing as being Euro-

Hemicii, pean and yet obscure — a fixed star visible only from

1858. observatories.

You will be interested to hear that I saw Strauss
' at Munich. He came for a week's visit before we left
I had a quarter of an hour's chat with him alone, and
was very agreeably impressed by him. He looked
much more serene, and his face had a far sweeter ex-
pression, than when I saw him in that dumb way at
Cologne. He speaks with very choice words, like a
man strictly truthful in the use of language. Will you
undertake to tell Mrs. Call from me that he begged
me to give his kindest remembrances to her and to
her father,* of whom he spoke with muijh interest and
regard as his earliest English friend? I dare not be-
gin to write about other things or people that I have
seen in these crowded weeks. They must wait till I
have you by my side again, which I hope will happen
some day.

Jo"™aJ» From Dresden, one showery day at the end of Au-
gust, we set oil to Leipzig, the first stage on our way
home. Here we spent two nights ; had a glimpse of
the old town with its fine market ; dined at Brock-
haus's ; saw the picture-gallery, carrying away a last-
ing delight in Calame's great landscapes and De
Dreux's dogs, which are far better worth seeing than
De la Roche's " Napoleon at Fontainebleau " — con-
sidered the glory of the gallery; went with Victor
Cams to his museum and saw an Amphioxus; and
finally spent the evening at an open-air concert in
Carus's company. Early in the morning we set off
by railway, and travelled night and day till we reached
home on the 2d September.

» Drr Brabant.

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1858.] Wilkie Collins. 47

Will you not write to the author of " Thorndale " Letter to
and express your s)mipathy ? He is a very diffident Henneii,
man, who would be susceptible to that sort of fellow- 1858.
ship ; and one should give a gleam of happiness where
it is possible. I shall write you nothing worth read-
ing for the next three months, so here is an oppor-
tunity for you to satisfy a large appetite for generous
deeds. You can write to me a great many times with-
out getting anything worth having in return.

Thanks for the verses on Buckle. I'm afraid I feel Letter to
a malicious delight in them, for he is a writer who in- HenncU,

. , , ,. ,., ^ 6th Oct.

spires me with a personal dislike ; not to put too fine 1858-
a point on it, he impresses me as an irreligious, con-
ceited man.

Long ago I had offered to write about Newman, but
gave it up again.

The second volume of " Adam Bede " had been
sent to Blackwood on 7th September, the third
had followed two months later, and there are the
following entries in the Journal in November :
Nov, I. — I have begun Carlyle's "Life of Frederic the journal,
Great," and have also been thinking much of my own
life to come. This is a moment of suspense, for I am
awaiting Blackwood's opinion and proposals concern-
ing^" Adam Bede."

Nov. 4. — Received a letter from Blackwood con-
taining warm praise of my third volume, and offering
;f8oo for the copyright of "Adam Bede" for four
years. I wrote to accept.

Nov, 10. — ^Wilkie Collins and Mr. Pigott came to
dine with us after a walk by the river. I was pleased
with Wilkie Collins — there is a sturdy uprightness
about him that makes all opinion and all occupation
respectable.

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48 The Basis of Real Incident, [Richmond,

Nov. 1 6. — ^Wrote the last word of " Adam Bede " and
sent it to Mr. Langford. jubilate.
History of The germ of " Adam Bede " was an anecdote told

Adam

Bipde." me by my Methodist Aunt Samuel (the wife of my fa-
ther's younger brother) — an anecdote from her own *
experience. We were sittingitogethen one afternoon
during her visit to mef*ti»0CflF,«probaDly in 1839 or
1840, when it occurred to her to tell me how she had
visited a condemned criminal — a very ignorant girl,
who had murdered her child and refused to confess ;
how she had stayed with her praying through the night,
and how the poor creature at last broke out into tears
and confessed her crime. My aunt afterwards went
with her in the cart to the place of execution ; and she
described to me the great respect with which this min-
istry of hers was regarded by the official people about
the jail. The story, told by my aunt with great feel-
ing, affected me deeply, and I never lost the impres-
sion of that afternoon and our talk together ; but I
believe I never mentioned it, through all the interven-
ing years, till something prompted me to tell it to
George in December, 1856, when I had begun to write
the " Scenes of Clerical Life." He remarked that the
scene in the prison would msike a fine element in a
story; and I afterwards began to think of blending
this and some other recollections of my aunt in one
story, with some points in my father's early life and
character. The problem of construction that remained
was to make the unhappy girl one of the chief dra-
matis personcB, and connect her with the hero. At
first I thought of making the story one of the series
of " Scenes," but afterwards, when several motives had
induced me close these with "Janet's Repentance," I
determined on making what we always called in our

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1858.] The Character of Dinah, 49

conversation " My Aunt's Story " the subject of a long History of
novel, which I accordingly began to write on the 22d Bcde."
October, 1857.

The character of Dinah grew out of my recollections
of my aunt, but Dinah is not at all like my aunt, who
was a very small, black-eyed woman, and (as I was
told, for I never heard her preach) very vehement in
her style of preaching. She had left off preaching
when I knew her, being probably sixty years old, and
in delicate health ; and she had become, as my father
told me, much more gentle and subdued than she had
been in the days of her active ministry and bodily
strength, when she could not rest without exhorting
and remonstrating in season and out of season. I was
very fond of her, and enjoyed the few weeks of her
stay with me greatly. She was loving and kind to me,
and I could talk to her about my inward life, which
was closely shut up from those usually round me. I
saw her only twice again, for much shorter periods —
once at her own home at Wirksworth, in Derbyshire,
and once at my father's last residence, Foleshill.

The character of Adam and one or two incidents
connected with him were suggested by my father's
early life ; but Adam is not my father any more than
Dinah is my aunt. Indeed, there is not a single por-
trait in Adam Bede — only the suggestions of experi-
ence wrought up into new combinations. When I be-
gan to write it, the only elements I had determined
on, besides the character of Dinah, were the character
of Adam, his relation to Arthur Donnithorne, and their
mutual relations to Hetty — /. e.^ to the girl who com-
mits child-murder — the scene in the prison being, of
course, the climax towards which I worked. Every-
thing else grew out of the characters and their mutual

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50 Mr. Lewes" 5 Suggestions. [Richmond.

Hiftofy of relations. Dinah's ultimate relation to Adam was

** Adam

suggested by George, when I had read to him the first
part of the first volume : he was so delighted with the
presentation of Dinah, and so convinced that the read-
er's ipterest would centre -in her, that he wanted her
to be the principal figure at the last. I accepted the
idea at once, and from the end of the third chapter
worked with it constantly in view.

The first volume was written at Richmond, and given
to Blackwood in March. He expressed great admi-
ration of its freshness and vividness, but seemed to hes-
itate about putting it in the Magazine, which was the
form of publication he as well as myself had previous-
ly contemplated. He still wished to have it for the
Magazine, but desired to know the course of the story.
At present he saw nothing to prevent its reception in
" Maga," but he would like to see more. I am uncer-
tain whether his doubts rested solely on Hetty's relation
to Arthur, or whether they were also directed towards
the treatment of Methodism by the Church. I refused
to tell my story beforehand, on the ground that I would
not have it judged apart from my treatment, which
alone determines the moral quality of art ; and ulti-
mately I proposed that the notion of publication in
** Maga " should be given up, and that the novel should
be published in three volumes at Christmas, if possi-
ble. He assented.

I began the second volume in the second week of
my stay at Munich, about the middle of April. While
we were at Munich George expressed his fear that
Adam's part was too passive throughout the drama,
and that it was important for him to be brought into
more direct collision with Arthur. This doubt haunted
me, and out of it grew the scene in the wood between

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1858.] Hetty s Journey. 51

Arthur and Adam ; the fight came to me as a necessity History of
one night at the Munich opera, when I was listening Bede!^
to "William Tell." Work was slow and interrupted
at Munich, and when we left I had only written to the
beginning of the dance on the Birthday Feast ; but at
Di-esden I wrote uninterruptedly and with great en-
joyment in the long, quiet mornings, and there I near-
ly finished the second volume — ^all, I think, but the
last chapter, which I wrote here in the old room at
Richmond in the first week of September, and then
sent the MS. off to Blackwood. The opening of the
third volume — Hetty's journey — ^was, I think, written
more rapidly than the rest of the book, and was left
without the slightest alteration of the first draught.
Throughout the book I have altered little ; and the
only cases I think in which George suggested more
than a verbal alteration, when I read the MS. aloud
to him, were the first scene at the Farm, and the scene
in the wood between Arthur and Adam, both of which
he recommended me to " space out " a little, which I
did.

When, on October 29, 1 had written to the end of
the love-scene at the Farm between Adam and Dinah,
I sent the MS. to Blackwood, since the remainder of
the third volume could not affect the judgment passed
on what had gone before. He wrote back in warm
admiration, and offered me, on the part of the firm,
;f 800 for four years' copyright. I accepted the offer.
The last words of the third volume were written and
despatched on their way to Edinburgh, November the
1 6th, and now on the last day of the same month I
have written this slight history of my book. I love it
very much, and am deeply thankful to have written it,
whatever the public may say to it — a result which is

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52 The Dialect in ^'Adam Bede'' [Richmond,

History of Still in darkncss, for I have at present had only four
Bcdc." sheets of the proof. The book would have been pub-
lished at Christmas, or rather early in December, but
that Bulwer's " What will he do with it ?" was to be
published by Blackwood at that time, and it was
thought that this novel might interfere with mine.

The manuscript of "Adam Bede" bears the

following inscription: "To my dear husband,

George Henry Lewes, I give the MS. of a work

which would never have been written but for the

happiness which his love has conferred on my

life.^'

Letter to I shall be much obliged if you will accept for me

Black- Tauchnitz's offer of £2iO for the English reprint of

Nov/iV- "Clerical Scenes." And will you also be so good as

to desire that Tauchnitz may register the book in

Germany, as I*understand that is the only security

against its being translated without our knowledge ;

and I shudder at the idea of my books being turned

into hideous German by an incompetent translator.

I return the proofs by to-day's post. The dialect
must be toned down all through in correcting the
proofs, for I found it impossible to keep it subdued
enough in writing. I am aware that the spelling
which represents a dialect perfectly well to those who
know it by the ear, is likely to be unintelligible to
others. I hope the sheets will come rapidly and reg-
ularly now, for I dislike lingering, hesitating processes.
Your praise of my ending was very warming and
cheering to me in the foggy weather. I'm sure, if I
have written well, your pleasant letters have had
something to do with it. Can anything be done in
America for " Adam Bede ?" I suppose not — as my
name is not known there.

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1858.] Anxieties for the Brays, 53

Nov, 25. — ^We had a visit from Mr. Bray, who told Jouraai,
us much that interested us about Mr. Richard Con-
greve, and also his own affairs.

I am very grateful to you for sending me a few au- Letter to
thentic words from your own self. They are unspeak- 26th* Nw!^*
ably precious to me. I mean that quite literally, for '*^^'
there is no putting into words any feeling that has
been of long growth within us. It is easy to say how
we love new friends, and what we think of them, but
words can never trace out all the fibres that knit us to
the old. I have been thinking of you incessantly in
the waking hours, and feel a growing hunger to know
more precise details about you. I am of a too sordid
and anxious disposition, prone to dwell almost exclu-
sively on fears instead of hopes, and to lay in a larger
stock of resignation than of any other form of confi-
dence. But I try to extract some comfort this morn-
ing from my consciousness of this disposition, by
thinking that nothing is ever so bad as my imagina-
tion paints it. And then I know there are incom-
municable feelings within us capable of creating our
best happiness at the very time others can see noth-
ing but our troubles. And so I go on arguing with
myself, and trying to live inside you and looking at
things in all the lights I can fancy you seeing them
in, for the sake of getting cheerful about you in spite
of Coventry.

The well-flavored mollusks came this morning. It Letter to
was very kind of you ; and if you remember how fond Bray,
I am of oysters, your good-nature will have the more Day, 1858.
pleasure in furnishing my gourmandise with the treat.
I have a childish delight in any little act of genuine
friendliness towards us— and yet not childish, for how
little we thought of people's goodness towards us

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54 Mrs. Poyser's Dialogue. [Richmond,

Letter to when wc WCFC children. It takes a good deal of ex-

Charles , ,, , . /• i i * f .

Bray, peiiencc to tell one the rarity of a thoroughly disin-
Day, i8s3. terested kindness.

Letter to I sce with you entirely about the preface : indeed
Black- I had myself anticipated the very effects you predict.

wood, 38th . ^ .ti

Dec. 1858. The deprecatory tone is not one I can ever take will-
ingly, but I am conscious of a shrinking sort of pride
which is likely to warp my judgment in many per-
sonal questions, and on that ground I distrusted my
own opinion.

Mr. Lewes went to Vernon Hill yesterday for a few
days' change of air, but before he went he said, "Ask
Mr. Blackwood what he thinks of putting a mere ad-
vertisement at the beginning of the book to this effect :
As the story of * Adam Bede ' will lose much of its
effect if the development is foreseen, the author re-
quests those critics who may honor him with a notice
to abstain from telling the story." I write my note
of interrogation accordingly " ? "

Pray do not begin to read the second volume until
it is all in print. There is necessarily a lull of inter-
est in it to prepare for the crescendo. I am delighted
that you like my Mrs. Poyser. I'm very sorry to
part with her and some of my other characters — there
seems to be so much more to be done with them.
Mr. Lewes says she gets better and better as the book
goes on ; and I was certainly conscious of writing her
dialogue with heightening gusto. Even in our im-
aginary worlds there is the sorrow of parting.

I hope the Christmas weather is as bright in your
beautiful Edinburgh as it is here, and that you are
enjoying all other Christmas pleasures too without
disturbance.

I have not yet made up my mind what my next

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1858.] Retrospect ^/ 1858. 55

story is to be, but I must not lie fallow any longer
when the new year is come.

Dec. 25 {Christmas Day), — George and I spent this Journal,
wet day very happily alone together. We are read-
ing Scott's life in the evenings with much enjoyment.
I am reading through Horace in this pause.

Dec. 31. — The last day of the dear old year, which
has been full of expected and unexpected happiness.
"Adam Bede" has been written, and the second vol-
ume is in type. The first number of George's " Phys-
iology of Common Life " — a work in which he has
had much happy occupation — is published to-day;
and both his position as a scientific writer and his
inward satisfaction in that part of his studies have
been much heightened during the past year. Our
double life is more and more blessed — ^more and more
complete.

I think this chapter cannot more fitly conclude
than with the following extract from Mr. G. H.
Lewes's Journal, with which Mr. Charles Lewes
has been good enough to furnish me :

yan. 28, 1859. — ^Walked along the Thames to-
wards Kew to meet Herbert Spencer, who was to
spend the day with us, and we chatted with him
on matters personal and philosophical. I owe
him a debt of gratitude. My acquaintance with
him was the brightest ray in a very dreary, wetted
period of my life. I have given up all ambition
whatever, lived from hand to mouth, and thought
the evil of each day sufficient. The stimulus of
his intellect, especially during our long walks,
roused my energy once more and revived my dor-
mant love of science. His intense theorizing ten-
dency was contagious, and it was only the stimulus

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56 Summary of Chapter VIII. [Richmond,

of a theory which could then have induced me to
work. I owe Spencer another and a deeper debt.
It was through him that I learned to know Marian
— ^to know her wjts to love her — and since then my
life has been a new birth. To her I owe all my
prosperity and all my happiness. God bless her !

SUMMAKY.

JANUARY, 1858, TO DECEMBER, 1858.

Times reviews "Scenes of Clerical Life" — Helps's opinion —
Subscription to the *' Scenes" — Letter from Dickens, i8th Jan.,
1858— Letter from Froude, 17th Jan.— Letter to Miss Hennell —
Mr. Wm. Smith, author of ** Thomdale " — Ruskin — Reading the
**Eumenides" and Wordsworth — Letter to John Blackwood on
Dickens's Letter — Letter from Mrs. Carlyle — Letter from Fara-
day — "Clerical Scenes" moving — ^John Blackwood calls, and
George Eliot reveals hersejf— Takes MS. of first part of " Adam
Bede " — Letters to Charles Bray on reports of authorship — Visit
to Germany — Description of NUmberg — The Frauen-Kirche —
Effect of the music — Albert DUrer*s house — Munich — Lodgings —
Pinacothek — Rubens — Crucifixion — Theresien Wiese — Schwan-
thaler's " Bavaria "—The Alps— Letter to Miss Hennell— Con-
trast between Catholic and Protestant worship — Glyptothek — Pict-
ures — Statues — Cornelius frescoes — Herr Oldenburg — Kaulbach
— Bodenstedt — Professor Wagner — Martius — Liebig — Geibel —
Heyse — Carri^re — Prince Radziwill's " Faust" — Professor L5her
— Baron Schack — Genelli — Professor Bluntschli — Letter to Miss
Hennell — Description of Munich life — Kaulbach's pictures — The
Siebolds — The Neue Pinacothek — Pictures and porcelain paint-
ing — Mme. Bodenstedt — Letter to Blackwood — Combinations of
artist in writing — Hears '.* William Tell " — Expedition to Gross-
hesselohe — Progress with "Adam Bede" — Letter to Miss Hen-
nell on death of her mother — Mr. Lewes goes to Hofwyl — Frau
Knapp — Mr. Lewes returns — Leave Munich for Traunstein —
Salzburg — Ischl — Linz — By Danube to Vienna — St. Stephen*s —
Belvedere pictures — Liechtenstein collection — Hyrtl the anatomist
— Prague — ^Jewish burial-ground and the old sjmagogue — To

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1858.] Summary of Chapter VIIL 57

Dresden — Latter half of second volume of "Adam Bede" writ-
ten — First impression of Sistine Madonna — The Tribute money
— ^Holbein's Madonna — The Correggios — Dutch school — Murillo
— Letter to Miss Hennell — Description of life at Dresden — Health
improved — Mention of Strauss at MunicH — Dresden to Leipzig
— Home to Richmond — Letter to Miss Hennell — Opinion of
Buckle — Blackwood offers ;f8oo for "Adam Bede" — Wilkie
Collins and Mr. Pigott— History of "Adam Bede"— Letter to
Charles Bray — Disinterested kindness — Letter to Blackwood sug-
gesting preface to "Adam Bede" — Reading Scott's Life and
Horace— Review of year — Extract from G. H. Lewes's Journal.
9*

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CHAPTER IX.

jounud, yan. 12. — ^We went into town to-day and looked in
* ^* the " Annual Register " for cases of inundation. Let-
ter from Blackwood to-day, speaking of renewed de-
light in "Adam Bede," and proposing ist Feb. as
the day of publication. Read the article in yester-
day's Times on George's " Sea-side Studies " — highly
gratifying. We are still reading Scott's life with great
interest ; and G. is reading to me Michelet's book
" De TAmour."

yan. 15. — I corrected the last sheets of "Adam
Bede," and we afterwards walked to Wimbledon to
see our new house, which we have taken for seven
years. I hired the servant — another bit of business
done : and then we had a delightful walk across Wim-
bledon Common and through Richmond Park home-
ward. The air was clear and cold — the sky magnifi-
cent.

yan. 31. — Received a check for ;£'4oo from Black-
wood, being the first instalment of the payment for
four years' copyright of " Adam Bede." To-morrow
the book is to be subscribed, and Blackwood writes
very pleasantly — confident of its "great success."
Afterwards we went into town, paid money into the
bank, and ordered part of our china and glass towards
house-keeping.
Letter to Encloscd is the formal acknowledgment, bearing
Black- my signature, and with it let me beg you to accept
Jan. 1859. my thanks — not formal but heartfelt — for the gener-

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1859] Subscription to ^'Adam Bede'* 59

ous way in which you have all along helped me with Letter to
words and with deeds. BUidc-

The impression "Adam Bede"has made on you Jan. 185"'
and Major Blackwood — of whom I have always been
pleased to think as concurring with your views — is my
best encouragement, and counterbalances, in some
degree, the depressing influences to which I am pecul-
iarly sensitive. I perceive that I have not the char-
acteristics of the "popular author," and yet I am
much in need of the warmly expressed sympathy
which only popularity can win.

A good subscription would be cheering, but I can
understand that it is not decisive of success or non-
success. Thank you for promising to let me know
about it as soon as possible.

Feb. 6. — ^Yesterday we went to take possession of Journal,
Holly Lodge, Wandsworth, which is to be our dwell- * ^
ing, we expect, for years to come. It was a deliciously
fresh bright day — I will accept the omen. A letter
came from Blackwood telling me the result of the
subscription to " Adam Bede," which was published
on the ist: 730 copies, Mudie having taken 500 on
the publisher's terms — i.e., ten per cent, on the sale
price. At first he had stood out for a larger reduc-
tion, and would only take 50, but at last he came
round. In this letter Blackwood told me the first ab
extra opinion of the book, which happened to be pre-
cisely what I most desired. A cabinet-maker (brother
to Blackwood's managing clerk) had read the sheets,
and declared that the writer must have been brought
up to the business, or at least had listened to the
workmen in their workshop.

Feb. 12. — Received a cheering letter from Black-
wood, saying that he finds " Adam Bede " making just

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6o Dr. John Brown. [Wandsworth,

Journal, the impression he had anticipated among his own

friends and connections, and enclosing a parcel from

Dr. John Brown "to the author of *Adam Bede.'"

The parcel contained " Rab and his Friends," with an

inscription.

Letter to Will you tell Dr. John Brown that when I read an

Bbidc- account of " Rab and his Friends " in a newspaper, I

Feb. i8s9. wishcd I had the story to read at full length ; and I

thought to myself the writer of " Rab " would perhaps

like" Adam Bede."

When you have told him this, he will understand
the peculiar pleasure I had on opening the little parcel
with " Rab " inside, and a kind word from Rab's friend.
I have read the story twice — once aloud, and once to
myself, very slowly, that I might dwell on the pictures
of Rab and Ailie, and carry them about with me more
distinctly. I will not say any commonplace words of
admiration about what has touched me so deeply;
there is no adjective of that sort left undefiled by the
newspapers. The writer of " Rab " knows that I must
love the grim old mastiff with the short tail and the
long dewlaps — that I must have felt present at the
scenes of Ailie's last trial.

Thanks for your cheering letter. I will be hopeful
— if I can.
Letter to You havc the art of writing just the sort of letters I

Miss Sara ^ . , ,.,

Henneii, carc for — smcerc letters, like your own talk. We are

19th Feb. , , , , , ,

1859. tolerably settled now, except that we have only a tem-
porary servant ; and I shall not be quite at ease until
I have a trustworthy woman who will manage without
incessant dogging. Our home is very comfortable,
with far more of vulgar indulgences in it than I ever
expected to have again ; but you must not imagine it
a snug place, just peeping above the holly bushes.

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1859] Visions of a Country Home. 61

Imagine it rather as a tall cake, with a low garnish of Letter to
holly and laurel. As it is, we are very well off, with Henneii,

, . t^ « , . , , . ,. . "9th Feb.

glonous breezy walks, and wide horizons, well venti- 1859-
lated rooms, and abundant water. If I allowed my-
self to have any longings beyond what is given, they
would be for a nook quite in the country, far away
from palaces — Crystal or otherwise — ^with an orchard
behind me full of old trees, and rough grass and hedge-
row paths among the endless field's where you meet
nobody. We talk of such things sometimes, along
with old age and dim faculties, and a small indepen-
dence to save us from writing, drivel for dishonest
money. In the mean time the business of life shuts
us up within the environs of London and within sight
of human advancements, which I should be so very
glad to believe in without seeing.

Pretty Arabella Goddard we heard play at Berlin
— ^play the very things you heard as a bonne bouche at
the last — none the less delightful from being so unlike
the piano playing of Liszt and Clara Schumann, whom
we had heard at Weimar — both great, and one the
greatest.

Thank you for sending me that authentic word
about Miss Nightingale. I wonder if she would
rather rest from her blessed labors, or live to go on
working ? Sometimes, when I read of the death of
some great, sensitive human being, I have a triumph
in the sense that they are at rest ; and yet, along with
that, such deep sadness at the thought that the rare
nature is gone forever into darkness, and we can never
know that our love and reverence can reach him, that
I seem to have gone through a personal sorrow when
I shut the book and go to bed. I felt in that way the
other night when I finished the life of Scott aloud to

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62 Effect of Anxiety. [Wandsworth,

Letter to Mr. L^wcs. He had never read the book before, and

HraneS, has been deeply stirred by the picture of Scott's char-

JssQ. ' * acter, his energy and steady work, his grand fortitude

under calamity, and the spirit of strict honor to which

he sacrificed his declining life. He loves Scott as

well as I do.

We have met a pleasant-faced, bright-glancing man,
whom we set down to be worthy of the name, Richard
Congreve. I am curious to see if our Ahnung will be
verified.
Letter to One word of gratitude to you first before I write any
a4th Feb. ' Other letters. Heaven and earth bless you for trying
to help me. I have been blasphemous enough some-
times to think that I had never been good and attrac-
tive enough to win any little share of the honest, dis-
interested friendship there is in the world : one or two
examples of late had given that impression, and I am
prone to rest in the least agreeable conviction the
premisses will allow. I need hardly tell you what I
want, you know it so well : a servant who will cause
me the least possible expenditure of time on house-
hold matters. I wish I were not an anxious, fidgety
wretch,^ and could sit down content with dirt and dis-
order. But anything in the shape of an anxiety soon
grows into a monstrous vulture with m% and makes
itself more present to me than my rich sources of hap-
piness — such as too few mortals' ^re blessed with. You
know me. Since I wrote this, I have just had a letter
from my sister Chrissey — ill in bed, consumptive —
regretting that she ever ceased to write to me. It has
ploughed up my heart.
Letter to Mrs. Carlylc's ardent letter will interest and amuse
Black- you. I reckon it among my best triumphs that she
Feb. 1859. found herself " in charity with the whole human race "

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1859] Sensibility to Criticism. 63

when she laid the book down. I want the philosopher Letter to
himself to read it, because the /r^-philosophic period Biack-
— the childhood and poetry of his life — lay among the Feb. '1859.
furrowed fields and pious peasantry. If he could be
urged to read a novel ! I should like, if possible, to
give him the same sort of pleasure he has given me in
the early chapters of " Sartor," where he describes lit-
tle Diogenes eating his porridge on the wall in sight
of the sunset, and gaining deep wisdom from the con-
templation of the pigs and other " higher animals " of
Entepfuhl.

Your critic was twt unjustly severe on the " Mirage
Philosophy " — and I confess the " Life of Frederic "
was a painful book to me in many respects ; and yet
I shrink, perhaps superstitiously, from any written or
spoken word which is as strong as my inward criticism.

I needed your letter very much — for when one lives
apart from the world, with. no opportunity of observ-
ing the effect of books except through the newspapers,
one is in danger of sinking into the foolish belief that
the day is past for the recognition of genuine, truthful
writing, in spite of recent experience that the news-
papers are no criterion at all. One such opinion as
Mr. Caird's outweighs a great deal of damnatory praise
from ignorant journalists.

It is a wretched weakness of my nature to be so
strongly affected by these things ; and yet how is it
possible to put one's best heart and soul into a book
and be hardened to the result — ^be indifferent to the
proof whether or not one has really a vocation to speak
to one's fellow-men in that way ? Of course one's van-
ity is at work ; but the main anxiety is something en-
tirely distinct from vanity.

You see I mean you to understand that my feelings

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64 Press Notices of ^' Adam Bedey [Wandsworth,

Letter to are very respectable, and such as it will be virtuous

BUurk- in you to gratify with the same zeal as you have

Feb. '1859. always shown. The packet of newspaper notices is

not come yet. I will take care to return it when it

has come.

The best news from London hitherto is that Mr.
Dallas is an enthusiastic admirer of Adam. I ought
to except Mr. Langford's reported opinion, which is
that of a person who has a voice of his own, and is
not a mere echo.

Otherwise, Edinburgh has sent me much more en-
couraging breezes than any that have come from the
sweet South. I wonder if all your other authors are
as greedy and exacting as I am. If so, I hope they
appreciate your attention as much. Will you oblige
me by writing a line to Mrs. Carlyle for me. I don*t
like to leave her second letter (she wrote a very kind
one about the " Clerical Scenes ") without any sort of
notice. Will you tell her that the sort of effect she
declares herself to have felt from " Adam Bede " is
just what I desire to produce — gentle thoughts and
happy remembrances; and I thank her heartily for
telling me, so warmly and generously, what she has
felt. That is not a pretty message : revise it for me,
pray, for I am weary and ailing, and thinking of a sis-
ter who is slowly dying.
Letter to The foHo of noticcs duly came, and are returned by

Black- to-day's post. The friend at my elbow ran through

wood, 25th ^ \ , , , , .

Feb. 1859. them for me, and read aloud some specunens to me,

some of them ludicrous enough. The Edinburgh

Courant has -the ring of sincere enjoyment in its

tone ; and the writer there makes himself so amiable

to me that I am sorry he has fallen into the mistake

of supposing that Mrs. Poyser*s original sayings are

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I859-] ''Opinions of the Press'' 65

remembered proverbs ! I have no stock of proverbs Letter to
in my memory ; and there is not one thing put into Black-
Mrs. Poyser's mouth that is not fresh from my own Feb. ^59.
mint. Please to correct that mistake if any one makes
it in your hearing.

I have not ventured to look into the folio myself;
but I learn that there are certain threatening marks,
in ink, by the side of such stock sentences as ^* best
novel of the season," or " best novel we have read for
a long time," from such authorities as the Sun, or
Morning Star, or other orb of the newspaper firma-
ment — as if these sentences were to be selected for
reprint in the form of advertisement. I shudder at
the suggestion. Am I taking a liberty in entreating
you to keep a sharp watch over the advertisements,
that no hackneyed puffing phrase of this kind may be
tacked to my book ? One sees them garnishing every
other advertisement of trash : surely no being " above
the rank of an idiot " can have his inclination coerced
by them ? and it would gall me, as much as any trifle
could, to see my book recommended by an authority
who doesn't know how to write decent English. I
believe that your taste and judgment will concur with
mine in the conviction that no quotations of this vul-
gar kind can do credit to a book; and that unless
something looking like the real opinion of a tolerably
educated writer, in a respectable journal, can be given,
it would be better to abstain from "opinions of the
press " altogether. I shall be grateful to you if you
will save me from the results of any agency but your
own — or at least of any agency that is not under your
rigid criticism in this matter.

Pardon me if I am overstepping the author's limits
in this expression of my feelings. I confide in your

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66 Cheap Edition Suggested. [Wandsworth,

ready comprehension of the irritable class you have
to deal with.
Journal, Feb, 2^, — Laudatory reviews of "Adam Bede" in
the Athenaum, Saturday^ and Literary Gazette, The
Saturday criticism is characteristic : Dinah is not
mentioned !

The other day I received the following letter, which
I copy, because I have sent the original away :

** To the Author of * Adam Bede,'

'* Chester Road, Sunderland.
Letter " Dear Sir, — I got the Other day a hasty read

HsS to of your * Scenes of Clerical Life,' and since that

EuS?* a glance at your * Adam Bede,' and was delighted

more than I can express ; but being a poor man,
and having enough to do to make *ends meet,' I
am unable to get a read of your inimitable books.
" Forgive, dear sir, my boldness in asking you
to give us a cheap edition. You would confer on
us a great boon. I can get plenty of trash for a
few pence, but I am sick of it. I felt so different
when I shut your books, even though it was but a
kind of * hop-skip-and-jump ' read.

" I feel so strongly in this matter that I am de-
termined to risk being thought rude and officious,
and write to you.

"Many of my working brethren feel as I do,
and I express their wish as well as ray own. Again
asking your forgiveness for intruding myself upon
you, I remain, with profoundest respect, yours, etc.,

" E. Hall."

Letter to

HinneuT I have Written to Chrissey, and shall hear from her
1859. ^ again. I think her writing was the result of long.

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1859] -*^^' ^^^ ^^^* Congreve call. 67

quiet thought — the slow return of a naturally just and utter to
affectionate mind to the position from which it had Henneii.
been thrust by external influence. She says : " My 1859.
object in writing to you is to tell you how very sorry
I have been that I ceased to write, and neglected one
who, under all circumstances, was kind to me and
mine. Pray believe me when I say it will be the
greatest comfort I can receive to know that you are
well and happy. Will you write once more ?" etc. I
wrote immediately, and I desire to avoid any word of
reference to anything with which she associates the
idea of alienation. The past is abolished from my
mind. I only want her to feel that I love her and
care for her. The servant trouble seems less moun-
tainous to me than it did the other day. I was suf-
fering physically from unusual worrit and muscular
exertion in arranging the house, and so was in a ridic-
ulously desponding state. I have written no end of
letters in answer to servants' advertisements, and we
have put our own advertisement in the Times —CzSS.
which amount of force, if we were not philosophers
and therefore believers in the conservation of force,
we should declare to be lost. It is so pleasant to
know these high doctrines — they help one so much.)
Mr. and Mrs. Richard Congreve have called on us.
We shall return the call as soon as we can.

March 8. — Letter from Blackwood this morning jouraai,
saying that " * Bedesman ' has turned the corner and ' ^^
is coming in a winner." Mudie has sent for 200 ad-
ditional copies (making 700), and Mr. Langford says
the West End libraries keep sending for more.

March 14. — My dear sister wrote to me about three
weeks ago, saying she regretted that she had ever
ceased writing to me, and that she has been in a con-

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68 The ^'Popular Author ^ [Wandsworth,

Journal, sumption for the last eighteen months. To-day I
' ^^' have a letter from my niece Emily, telling me her
mother had been taken worse, and cannot live many
days.

March 14. — Major Blackwood writes to say " Mudie
has just made up his number of * Adam Bede ' to
1000. Simpkins have sold their subscribed number,
and have had 12 to-day. Every one is talking of the
book."

March 15. — Chrissey died this morning at a quar-
ter to 5.

March 16. — Blackwood writes to say I am "a popu-
lar author as well as a great author." They printed
2090 of "Adam Bede," and have disposed of more
than 1800, so that they are thinking about a sec-
ond edition. A very feeling letter from Froude this
morning. I happened this morning to be reading
the 30th Ode, B. Ill, of Horace — "Non omnis mo-
riar."
Letter to The news you have sent me is worth paying a great
BUdc- deal of pain for, past and future. It comes rather
March!^ Strangely to me, who live in such unconsciousness of
' ^^* what is going on in the world. I am like a deaf per-
son, to whom some one has just shouted that the
company round him have been paying him compli-
ments for the last half hour. Let the best come, you
will still be the person outside my own home \i\io first
gladdened me about " Adam Bede ;" and my success
will always please me the better because you will
share the pleasure.

Don't think I mean to worry you with many such
requests — but will you copy for me the enclosed short
note to Froude ? I know you will, so I say " thank
you."

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1859] Letter to Mr. J. A. Froude. 69

Dear Sir, — My excellent friend and publisher, Letter to
Mr. Blackwood, lends me his pen to thank you Froude
for your letter, and for his sake I shall be brief. Geori^e

Your letter has done me real good — the same
sort of good as one has sometimes felt from a silent
pressure of the hand and a grave look in the
midst of smiling congratulations.

I have nothing else I care to tell you that you
will not have found out through my books, except
this one thing : that, so far as I am aware, you
are only the second person who has shared my own
satisfaction in Janet. I think she is the least
popular of my characters. You will judge from
that, that it was worth your while to tell me what
you felt about her.

I wish I could help you with words of equal
value ; but, after all, am I not helping you by say-
ing that it was well and generously done of you to
write to me ? — Ever faithfully yours,

George Eliot.

It was worth your while to write me those feeling Letter to
words, for they are the sort of things that I keep in Henneiir
my memory and feel the influence of a long, long March,
while. Chrissey's death has taken from the possibil- ' ^^
ity of niany things towards which I looked with some
hope and yearning in the future. I had a very special
feeling towards her — stronger than any third person
would think likely.

March 24. — Mr. Herbert Spencer brought us word journal,
that " Adam Bede " had been quoted by Mr. Charles
Buxton in the House of Commons : " As the farmer^s
wife says in *Adam Bede,' *It wants to be hatched
over agaiti and hatched different.' "

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70 Review of ^' Adam'' in'' Magar [Wandsworth,

Journal, March 26. — George went into town to-day and
brought me home a budget of good news that com-
pensated for the pain I had felt in the coldness of an
old friend. Mr. Langford says that Mudie "thinks
he must have another hundred or two of * Adam ' —
has read the book himself, and is delighted with it."
Charles Reade says it is " the finest thing since Shake-
speare" — placed his finger on Lisbeth's account of
her coming home with her husband from their mar-
riage — praises enthusiastically the style — the way in
which the author handles the Saxon language. Shirley
Brooks also delighted. John Murray says there has
never been such a book. Mr, Langford says there
must be a second edition, in 3 vols., and they will
print 500: whether Mudie takes more or not, they
will have sold all by the end of a month. Lucas de-
lighted with the book, and will review it in the Times
the first opportunity.
Letter to I should like you to convey my gratitude to your
Black- reviewer. I see well he is a man whose experience
Sunir and study enable him to relish parts of my book,
' ^^ which I should despair of seeing recognized by critics
in London back drawing-rooms. He has gratified me
keenly by laying his finger on passages which I wrote
either with strong feeling or from intimate knowledge,
but which I had prepared myself to find entirely
. passed over by reviewers. Surely I am not wrong in
supposing him to be a clergyman ? There was one
exemplary lady Mr. Langford spoke of, who, after
reading "Adam," came the next day and bought a
copy both of that and the " Clerical Scenes." I wish
there may be three hundred matrons as good as she !
It is a disappointment to me to find that "Adam"
has given no impulse to the " Scenes," for I had

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1859] -^^« Liggins as '^George EliotT 71

sordid desires for money from a second edition, and Letter to
had dreamed of its coming speedily. Biack-

- , ,.,.,,, , , wood, 30th

About my new story, which will be a novel as long March,
as "Adam Bede," and a sort of companion picture
of provincial life, we must talk when I have the pleas-
ure of seeing you. It will be a work which will re-
quire time and labor.

Do write me good news as often as you can. I
owe thanks to Major Blackwood for a very charming
letter.

The other day I received a letter from an old friend Letter to
in Warwickshire, containing some striking informa- Biack-
tion about the author of "Adam Bede." I extract loth April,
the passage for your amusement :

" I want to ask you if you have read * Adam Bede,'
or the * Scenes of Clerical Life,' and whether you
know that the author is Mr. Liggins ? . . . A deputation
of dissenting parsons went over to ask him to write
for the ^ Eclectic,^ and they found him washing his slop-
basin at a pump. He has no servant, and does every-
thing for himself; biit one of the said parsons said
that he inspired them with a reverence that would
have made any impertinent question impossible. The
son of a baker, of no mark at all in his town, so that
it is possible you may not have heard of him. You
know he calls himself 'George Eliot.' It sounds
strange to hear the Westminster doubting whether
he is a woman, when here he is so well known. But '
I am glad it has mentioned him. T/iey say he gets no
profit out of ^ Adam Bede,* and gives it freely to Black-
wood, which is a shame. We have not read him yet,
but the extracts are irresistible."

Conceive the real George Eliot's feelings, conscious
of being a base worldling — not washing his own slop- .

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72 Trip to the Isle of Wight. [Wandsworth,

Letter to basin, and not giving away his MS. ! not even intend-
E?adc- ing to do so, in spite of the reverence such a course
April) 1859. might inspire. I hope you and Major Blackwood
will enjoy the myth.

Mr. Langford sent me a letter the other day from
Miss Winkworth, a grave lady, who says she never
reads novels, except a few of the most famous, but
that she has read " Adam " three times running. One
likes to know such things — they show that the book
tells on people's hearts, and may be a real instrument
of culture. I sing my Magnificat in a quiet way, and
have a great deal of deep, silent joy ; but few authors,
I suppose, who have had a real success, have known
less of the flush and the sensations of triumph that
are talked of as the accompaniments of success. I
think I should soon begin to believe that Liggins
wrote my books— it is so difficult to believe what the
world does not believe, so easy to believe what the
world keeps repeating.
Letter to The Very day you wrote we were driving in an open
Henneii, Carriage from Ryde to the Sandrock Hotel, taking in
1859. * a month's delight in the space of five hours. Such
skies — such songs of larks — such beds of primroses !
7 am quite well now — set up by iron and quinine, and
polished off by the sea-breezes. I have lost my young
dislike to the spring, and am as glad of it as the birds
and plants are. Mr. Lewes has read " Adam Bede,"
and is as dithyrambic about it as others appear to be,
so /must refresh my soul with it now as well as with
the spring-tide. Mr. Liggins I remember as a vision
of my childhood — a tall, black-coated, genteel young
Letter to clcrgyman-in-embryo.

HenneSr Mr. Lewes is " making himself into four " in writing
II59. ^"^ ' answers to advertisements and other exertions which

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1859.] ^^ Times'* Reviews ^^Adam Bede*' 73

he crenerously takes on himself to save me. A model utter to

* ^ Miss Sara

husband ! Henncll,

We both like your literal title, " Thoughts in Aid 1859.
of Faith," very much, and hope to see a little book
under that title before the year is out — a book as
thorough and effective in its way as " Christianity and
Infidelity."

-^^writing is an excellent process, frequently both
for the book and its author ; and to prevent you from
grudging the toil, I will tell you that so old a writer
as Mr. Lewes now rewrites everything of importance^
though in all the earlier years of his authorship he
would never take that trouble.

We are so happy in the neighborhood of Mr. and
Mrs. Richard Congreve. She is a sweet, intelligent,
gentle woman. I already love her : and his fine, beam-
ing face does me good, like a glimpse of an Olympian.

April IT . — I have left off recording the history of journal,
. " Adam Bede " and the pleasant letters and words ' ^*
that came to me — the success has been so triumph-
antly beyond anything I had dreamed of that it would
be tiresome to put down particulars. Four hundred
of the second edition (of 750) sold in the first week,
and twenty besides ordered when there was not a copy
left in the London house. This morning Hachette
has sent to ask my terms for the liberty of translation
into French. There was a review in the Times last
week, which will naturally give a new stimulus to the
sale ; and yesterday I sent a letter to the Times deny-
ing that Mr. Liggins is the author, as the world and
Mr. Anders had settled it. But I must trust to the
letters I have received and preserved for giving me
the history of the book if I should live long enough
to forget details.

n.-4

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74 ^/^^ Liggins Myth. [Wandsworth,

joarnai, Shall I cvcr write another book as true as "Adam
^ ^* Bede ?" The weight of the future presses on me, and

makes itself felt even more than the deep satisfaction

of the past and present.
Letter to This myth about Liggins is getting serious, and
Black- must be put a stop to. We are bound not to allow

wood,aoth t • i r i . . -

April, 1859. sums of money to be raised on a false supposition of
this kind. Don't you think it would be well for you
to write a letter to the Times, to the effect that, as you
find in some stupid quarters my letter has not been
received as a bonii.'fide denial, you declare Mr. Liggins
not to be the author of " Clerical Scenes " and " Adam
Bede ;" further, that any future applications to you
concerning George Eliot will not be answered, since
that writer is not in need of public benevolence. Such
a letter might save us from future annoyance and
trouble, for I am rather doubtful about Mr. Liggins's
character. The last report I heard of him was that
he spent his time in smoking and drinking. I don't
know whether that is one of the data for the Warwick-
shire logicians who have decided him to be the author
of my books.
Journal, April 29. — To-day Blackwood sent me a letter from
Bulwer, which I copy because I have to send back the
original, and I like to keep in mind the generous praise
of one author for another.

* * Malvern, April 24, 1859.
Letter " Mv DEAR SiR,-^I ought long sincc to have

Lyttonto' thanked you for * Adam Bede.' But I never had
Blade- a moment to look at it till arriving here, and or-

dered by the doctors to abstain) from all * work.'

" I owe the author much gratitude for some very
pleasing hours. The book indeed is worthy of great
admiration. There are touches of beauty in the

wood.

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1859] ''The Lifted VeiV'—''The Tulliversr 75

conception of human character that are exquisite, Letter
and much wit and much poetry embedded in the Lyttonto *
* dialect/ which nevertheless the author over-uses. Biack-

" The style is remarkably good whenever it is
English and not provincial — racy, original, and
nervous.

" I congratulate you on having found an author
of such promise, and published one of the very
ablest works of fiction I have read for years. —
Yours truly, E. B. L.

" I am better than I was, but thoroughly done
up."

April 2(). — Finished a story — "The Lifted Veil" — journal,
which I began one morning at Richmond as a re-
source when my head was too stupid for more impor-
tant work.

Resumed my new novel, of which I am going to re-
write the two first' chapters. I shall call it provision-
ally " The TuUivers," for the sake of a title quekonque^
or perhaps " St. Ogg's qe the Floss."

Thank you for sending me Sir Edward Lytton's let- Letter to
ter, which has given me real pleasure. The praise is B?a"k-
doubly valuable to me for the sake of the generous April) ^859.
feeling that prompted it. I think you judged rightly
about writing to the Times, I would abstain from the
remotest appearance of a " dodge." I am anxious to
know of any positive rumors that may get abroad ;
for while I would willingly, if it were possible —
\yhich it clearly is not — retain my incognito as long
as I live, I can suffer no one to bear my arms on his
shield.

There is one alteration, or rather an addition — mere-
ly of a sentence — that I wish to make in the \2s, edition

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76 Friendship with Mrs, Congreve. [Wandsworth,

Letter to of " Adaixi Bedc." It is a sentence in the chapter
Black- where Adam is making the coffin at night, and hears

wood.agth , .„ , r. , ,

April, 1859. the willow wand. Some readers seem not to have un-
derstood what I meant— namely, that it was in Adam's
peasant blood and nurture to believe in this, and that
he narrated it with awed belief to his dying day. That
is not a fancy of my own brain, but a matter of ob-
servation, and is, in my mind, an important feature in
Adam's character. There is nothing else I wish to
touch. I will send you the sentence some day soon,
with the page where it is to be inserted.

Journal, May 3, — I had a letter from Mrs. Richard Congreve,
telling me of her safe arrival, with her husband and
sister,* at Dieppe. This new friend, whom I have
gained by coming to Wandsworth, is the chief charm
of the place to me. Her friendship has the same date
as the success of " Adam Bede " — two good things in
my lot that ought to have made me less sad than I
have been in this house.

Letter to Your letter came yesterday at tea-time, and made

greve,4th the evening happier than usual. We had thought of

May, 1859. ,. , ,. t ,,,..,

you not a little as we listened to the howling winds,
especially as the terrible wrecks off the Irish coast
had filled our imaginations disagreeably. Now I can
make a charming picture of you all on the beach, ex-
cept that I am obliged to fancy your face looking still
too languid after all your exertion and sleeplessness.
I remember the said face with peculiar vividness,
which is very pleasant to me. " Rough " has been
the daily companion of our walks, and wins on our
affections, as other fellow mortals do, by a mixture of
weaknesses and virtues — the weaknesses consisting

* Miss Emily Bury, now Mrs. Geddes.

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1859] Belief in Mrs. Congreve^s Love. jy

chiefly in a tendency to become invisible every ten Letter to
minutes, and in a forgetfulness of reproof, which, I sreve, 4th
fear, is the usual accompaniment of meekness under
it. All this is good discipline for us selfish solitaries,
who have been used to stroll along, thinking of noth-
ing but ourselves.

We walked through your garden to - day, and I
gathered a bit of your sweetbrier, of which I am at
this moment enjoying the scent as it stands on my
desk. I am enjoying, too, another sort of sweetness,
which I also owe to you — of that subtle, haunting
kind which is most like the scent of my favorite plants
— the belief that you do really care for me across the
seas there, and will associate me continually with
your home. Faith is not easy to me, nevertheless I
believe everything you say and write.

Write to me as often as you can — that is, as often
as you feel any prompting to do so. You were a dear
presence to me, and will be a precious thought to me
all through your absence.

May 4. — ^To-day came a letter from Barbara Bodi- Journal,
chon, full of joy in my success, in the certainty that
" Adam Bede " was mine, though she had not read
more than extracts in reviews. This is the first de-
light in the book as mine^ over and above the fact
that the book is good.

God bless you, dearest Barbara, for your love and Letter to

. Madame

sympathy. You are the first friend who has given Bodichon,
any symptom of knowing me — the first heart that has 1859.
recognized me in a book which has come from my
heart of hearts. But keep the secret solemnly till I
give you leave to tell it ; and give way to no impulses
of triumphant affection. You have sense enough to
know how important the incognito has been, and we are

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78 Sympathy of her Husband. [Wandsworth,

Letter to anxious to keep it up a few months longer. Curiously

Madame , , , ,. . . , , , . /

Bodichon, enougo my old Coventry friends, who have certamly
1859. ' read the Westminster and the Times ^ and have probably
by this time read the book itself, have given no sign
of recognition. But a certain Mr. Liggins, whom rumor
has fixed on as the author of my books, and whom
they have believed in, has probably screened me from
their vision. I am a very blessed woman, am I not,
to have all this reason for being glad that I have
lived ? I have had no time of exultation ; on the
contrary, these last months have been sadder than
usual to me, and I have thought more of the future
and the much work that remains to be done in life
than of anything that has been achieved. But I think
your letter to-day gave me more joy — more heart-
glow — than all the letters or reviews or other testi-
monies of success that have come to me since the
evenings when I read aloud my manuscript to my dear,
dear husband, and he laughed and cried alternately,
and then rushed to me to kiss me. He is the prime
blessing that has made all the rest possible to me,
giving me a response to everything I have written —
a response that I could confide in, as a proof that I
had not mistaken my work.
Letter to You must not think me too soft-hearted when 1
Black- tell you that it would make me uneasy to leave Mr.
May, 1859. Anders without an assurance that his apology is ac-
cepted. " Who with repentance is not satisfied," etc. ;
that doctrine is bad for the sinning, but good for those
sinned against. Will you oblige me by allowing a
clerk to write something to this effect in the name of
the firm? — "We are requested by George Eliot to
state, in reply to your letter of the i6th, that he ac-
cepts your assurance that the publication of your let-

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1859] Dulwich Picture Gallery. 79

ter to the reviewer of 'Adam Bede' in the Times was Letter to

1 •« Mmjor

unintentional on your part. BUck-

Yes, I am assured now that "Adam Bede ^' was May, i8s9-
worth writing — worth living through long years to
write. But now it seems impossible to me that I shall
ever write anything so good and true again. I have ar-
rived at faith in the past, but not at faith in the future.

A friend in Algiers* has found me out — " will go to '
the stake on the assertion that I wrote *Adam Bede' "
— ^simply on the evidence of a few extracts. So far
as I know, this is the first case of detection on purely
internal evidence. But the secret is safe in that
quarter.

I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again
during some visit that you will pay to town before very
long. It would do me good to have you shake me by
the hand as the ascertained George Eliot.

May 9. — We had a delicious drive to Dulwich, and Journal,
back by Sydenham. We stayed an hour in the gallery
at Dulwich, and I satisfied myself that the St. Sebas-
tian is no exception to the usual " petty prettiness " of
Guidons conceptions. The Cuyp glowing in the even-
ing sun, the Spanish beggar boys of Murillo, and
Gainsborough's portrait of Mrs. Sheridan and her sis-
ter, are the gems of the gallery. But better than the
pictures was the fresh greenth of the spring — the
chestnuts }ust on the verge of their flowering beauty,
the bright leaves of the limes, the rich yellow-brown
of the oaks, the meadows full of buttercups. We
saw for the first time Clapham Common, Streatham
Common, and Tooting Common — the two last like
parks rather than commons.

Madame Bodichon.

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8o Appreciation of Blackwoods. [Wandsworth,

jouraai, May 19. — A letter from Blackwood, in which he
proposes to give me another ;^4oo at the end of the
year, making in all ;f 1200, as an acknowledgment of
" Adam Bede's " success.

Letter to Mrs. Congrcve is a sweet woman, and I feel that I

Miss Sara ® .

HenncU, have acquifcd a friend in her — after recently declar-
1859. ' ing that we would never have any friends again, only

acquaintances.
Letter to Thank you : first, for acting with that fine integrity
Wack- which makes part of my faith in^you; secondly, for
May, 1859. the material sign of that integrity. I don't know
which of those two things I care for most — that peo-
ple should act nobly towards me, or that I should get
honest money. I certainly care a great deal for the
money, as I suppose all anxious minds do that love
independence and have been brought up to think debt
and begging the two deepest dishonors short of crime.
I look forward with quite eager expectation to see-
ing you — we have so much to say. Pray give us the
first day at your command. The excursion, as you
may imagine, is not ardently longed for in this weather,
but when " merry May " is quite gone, we may surely
hope for some sunshine ; and then I have a pet project
of rambling along by the banks of a river, not without
artistic as well as hygienic purposes.

Pray bring me all the Liggins Correspondence. I
have an amusing letter or two to show you-— one from
a gentleman who has sent me his works ; happily the
only instance of the kind. For, as Charles Lamb
complains, it is always the people whose books don't
sell who are anxious to send them to one, with their
Letter to " fooHsh autographs " inside.

ninnfir ^Ve don't think of going to the festival, not for
ais^May, ^^^^ ^£ powcr to enjoy Handel — there are few things

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1859] The Liggins Business. I 81 /

that I care for more in the way of music thanks Letter to
choruses, performed by a grand orchestra — but be- Henncii,
cause we are neither of us fit to encounter the physical 1859.
exertion and inconveniences. It is a cruel thing the
difficulty and deamess of getting any music in Eng-
land — concerted music, which is the only music I care
for much now. At Dresden we could have thoroughly
enjoyable instrumental music every evening for two-
pence ; and I owed so many thoughts and inspirations
of feeling to that stimulus.

May 27. — Blackwood came to dine with us on hisjouroai,
arrival in London, and we had much talk. A day or
two before he had sent me a letter from Professor
Aytoun, saying that he had neglected his work to
read the first volume of " Adam Bede ;" and he actu-
ally sent the other two volumes out of the house to
save himself from temptation. Blackwood brought
with him a correspondence he has had with various
people about Liggins, beginning with Mr. Bracebridge,
who will have it that Liggins is the author of " Adam
Bede " in spite of all denials.

^une 5. — Blackwood came, and we concocted two
letters to send to the Times^ in order to put a stop
to the Liggins affair.

The " Liggins business " does annoy me, because it Letter to
subjects you and Mr. John Blackwood to the reception Bitck-
of insulting letters, and the trouble of writing contra- June* 1859.
dictions. Otherwise, the whole affair is really a sub-
ject for a Molifere comedy — " The Wise Men of War-
wickshire," who might supersede " The Wise Men of
Gotham."

The letter you sent me was a very pleasant one
from Mrs. Gaskell, saying that since she came up to
town she has had the compliment paid her of being

4*

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82 The Handel Festival. [Wandsworth,

Letter to suspected to have written "Adam Bede." "I have

Bi2k- hitherto denied it : but really, I think, that as you
wood,6th , , ' . , /,

June, 1859. want to keep your real name a secret, it would be

^ very pleasant for me to blush acquiescence. Will you
give me leave ?"

I hope the inaccuracy with which she writes my
name is not characteristic of a genius for fiction,
/ though' I once heard a German account for the bad
/ spelling in Goethe's early letters by saying that it was
I "genial " — their word for whatever is characteristic of
genius.
Letter to I was glad you wrote to me from Avignon of all the
preve, 8th placcs you havc visited, because Avignon is one of my
most vivid remembrances from out the dimness of ten
years ago. Lucerne would be a strange region to me
but for Calame's pictures. Through them I have a
vision of it, but of course when I see it 'twill be an-
other Luzern. Mr. Lewes obstinately nurses the proj-
ect of carrying me thither with him, and depositing
me within reach of you while he goes to Hofwyl.
But at present I say " No." We have been waiting
and waiting for the skies to let us take a few days*
ramble by the river, but now I fear we must give
it up till all the freshness of young summer is gone.
July and August are the two months I care least about
for leafy scenery.

However, we are kept at home this month partly by
pleasures : the Handel Festival, for which we have in-
dulged ourselves with tickets, and the sight of old
friends — Mrs. Bodichon among the rest, and for her
we hope to use your kind loan of a bedroom. We are
both of us in much better condition than when you
said good-bye to us, and I have many other sources of
gladness just now — so I mean to make myself dis-

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1859.] Acknowledges Autltorship. 83

agreeable no longer by caring about petty troubles. Letter to
If one could but order cheerfulness from the drug- ktcvc, 8th'
gist's ! or even a few doses of coldness and distrust, **° ' ' **
to prevent one from foolish confidence in one's fellow- 1
mortals !

I want to get rid of this house— cut cables and
drift about I dislike Wandsworth, and should think
with unmitigated regret of our coming here if it were
not for you. But you are worth paying a price for.

There 1 I have written about nothing but ourselves
this time ! You do the same, and then I think I will
promise . . . not to write again, but to ask you to go
on writing to me without an answer.

How cool and idle you are this morning! I am
warm and busy, but always, at all temperatures,
yours affectionately.

yune 20. — We went to the Crystal Palace to hear Journal,
the " Messiah," and dined afterwards with the Brays
and Sara HennelL I told them I was the author of
" Adam Bede " and " Clerical Scenes," and they
seemed overwhelmed with surprise. This experience
has enlightened me a good deal as to the ignorance
in which we all live of each other.

There is always an after sadness belonging to brief Letter to

, . , i. . , , , Miss Sara

and interrupted mtercourse between friends — the sad- Henneii,
ness of feeling that the blundering efforts we have 1859.
made towards mutual understanding have only made
a new veil between us — still more, the sadness of feel-
ing that some pain may have been given which sepa-
ration makes a permanent memory. We are quite
unable to represent ourselves truly. Why should we
complain that our friends see a false image ? I say
this because I am feeling painfully this morning that,
instead of helping you when you brought before me a

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84 Proposed Visit to Switzerland. [Wandsworth,

Letter to matter so deeply interesting to you, I have only blun-

Hcnneii, dcred, and that I have blundered, as most of us do,

?859. ""** from too much egoism and too little sympathy. If

my mind had been more open to receive impressions,

instead of being in over-haste to give them, I should

more readily have seen what your object was in giving

me that portion of your MS., and we might have gone

through the necessary part of it on Tuesday. It

seems no use to write this now, and yet I can't help

wanting to assure you that if I am too imperfect to

do and feel the right thing at the right moment, I am

not without the slower S3anpalhy that becomes all the

stronger from a sense of previous mistake.

Letter to I am told peremptorily that I am to go to Switzer-

Kreve, a7th land next month, but now I have read your letter, I

""** ' ^ can't help thinking more of your illness than of the

pleasure in prospect — according to my foolish nature,

which is always prone to live in past pain.

We shall not arrive at Lucerne till the 12th, at the
earliest, I imagine, so I hope we are secured from the
danger of alighting precisely on the days of your ab-
sence. That would be cruel, for I shall only be left
at Lucerne for three days. You must positively have
nothing more interesting to do than to talk to me and
let me look at you. Tell your sister I shall be all
ears and eyes and no tongue, so she will find me the
most amiable of conversers.

I think it must be that the sunshine makes your
absence more conspicuous,^ for this place certainly
becomes drearier to me as the summer advances.
The dusty roads are all longer, and the shade is far-
ther off. No more now about anything — except that
Mr. Lewes commands me to say he has just read the
"Roman Empire of the West" with much interest,

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1859.] No Portraits in ''Adam Bede^ 85

and is going now to flesh his teeth in the " Politique "
(Auguste Comte's).

"Dear Friends, — All three of you^— thanks for Letter to
your packet of heartfelt kindness. That is theMood?/^
best of your kindness — there is no sham in it. IteS^i?*'
was inevitable to me to have that outburst when I "°** * **
saw you for a little while after the long silence,
and felt that I must tell you then or be forestalled,
and leave you to gather the truth amidst an inex-
tricable mixture of falsehood. But I feel that the
influence of talking about my books, even to you
and Mrs. Bodichon, has been so bad to me that I
should like to be able to keep silence concerning
them for evermore. If people were to buzz round
me with their remarks, or compliments, I should
lose the repose of mind and truthfulness of produc-
tion without which no good, healthy books can be
written. Talking about my books, I find, has much
the same malign effect on me^as talking of my feel-
ings or my religion.

" I should think Sara's version of my brother's
words concerning * Adam Bede ' is the correct
one — 'that there are things in it about my father^
(/>., being interpreted, things my father told us
about his early life), not * portrait ' of my father.
There is not a single portrait in the book, nor will
there be in any future book of mine. There are
portraits in the 'Clerical Scenes;' but that was
my first bit of art, and my hand was not well in.
I did not know so well how to manipulate my ma-
terials. As soon as the Liggins falsehood is an-
nihilated, of course there will be twenty new ones in
its place : and one of the first will be that I was not

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86 Authors Discouragement. [Wandsworth,

the sole author. The only safe thing for my mind's

health is to shut my ears and go on with my work.

Letter to " Thanks for your letters. They have eriven me

Charles , \ ^, . •; ,,^^..

Bray. 5th one pleasure — that of knowmg that Mr. Liggms

July, 1859.

has not been greatly culpable — though Mr. Brace-
bridge's statement, that only *some small sums'
have been collected, does not accord with what has
been written to Mr. Blackwood from other coun-
ties. But * O, I am sick !' Take no more trouble
about me — and let every one believe — as they will,
in spite of your kind efforts — what they like to be-
lieve, I can't tell you how much melancholy it
causes me that people are, for the most part, so
incapable of comprehending the state of mind
which cares for that which is essentially human in
all forms of belief, and desires to exhibit it under
all forms with loving truthfulness. (^Freethinkers
are scarcely wider than the orthodox in this mat-
ter — they all want to see themselves and their own
opinions held up as the true and the lovely.) On
the same ground that an idle woman, with flirta-
tions and flounces, likes to read a French novel,
because she can imagine herself the heroine, grave
people, with opinions, like the most admirable char-
acter in a novel to be their mouth-piece. If art
does not enlarge men's sympathies, it does noth-
ing morally. I have had heart-cutting experience
that opinions are a poor cement between human
souls : and the only effect I ardently long to pro-
duce by my writings is, that those who read them
should be better able to imagine and to feel the
pains and the joys of those who differ from them-
selves in everything but the broad fact of being
struggling, erring, human creatures.

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1859.] '^''^^P ^^ Lucerne. 87

" We shall not start till Saturday, and shall not utter to
reach Lucerne till the evening oi the nth. There greve, 6th
is a project of our returning through Holland, but
the attractions of Lucerne are sure to keep us
there as long as possible. We have given up Zu-
rich in spite of Moleschott and science. The other
day I said to Mr. Lewes, * Every now and then it
comes across me, like the recollection of some
precious little store laid by, that there is Mrs. Con-
greve in. the world.' That is how people talk of
you in your absence."

yuly 9. — We started for Switzerland. Spent a de- Journal,
lightful day in Paris. To the Louvre first, where we
looked chiefly at the Marriage at Cana, by Paul Ver-
onese. This picture, the greatest I have seen of his,
converted me to high admiration of him.

yuly 12. — Arrived at Lucerne in the evening. Glad
to make a home at the charming Schweizerhof on the
banks of the Lake. G. went to call on the Congreves,
and in the afternoon Mrs. Congreve came to chat with
us. In the evening we had a boat on the Lake.

yuly 13. — G. set off for Hofwyl at five o'clock,
and the three next days were passed by me in quiet
chat with the Congreves and quiet resting on my own
sofa.

yuly 19. — Spent the morning in Bile, chiefly under
the chestnut-trees, near the Cathedral, I reading aloud
Flourens's sketch of Cuvier's labors. In the afternoon
to Paris.

yuly 21. — Holly Lodge, Wandsworth. Found a
charming letter from Dickens, and pleasant letters
from Blackwood; nothing to annoy us. Before we
set off we had heard the excellent news that the fourth

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88 Return to England, [Wandsworth.

Journal, edition of "Adam Bede" (5000) had all been sold in

a fortnight. The fifth edition appeared last week.
Letter to We reached here last evening, and though I was a
23djui^^' good deal overdone in getting to Lucerne, I have
' ^^ borne the equally rapid journey back without head-
ache — a proof that I am strengthened. I had three
quiet days of talk with the Congreves at Lucerne,
while Mr. Lewes went to Hofwyl. Mrs. Congreve is
one of those women of whom there are few — rich in
intelligence, without pretension, and quivering with
sensibility, yet calm and quiet in her manners.
Txitterto I thank you for your offer about the money for
BUdc- " Adam," but I have intentions of stern thrift, and
July, '1859. mean to want as little as possible. When " Maggie "
is done, and I have a month or two of leisure, I should
like to transfer our present house, into which we were
driven by haste and economy, to some one who likes
houses full of eyes all round him. I long for a house
with some shade and grass close round it — I don't
care how rough — and the sight of Swiss houses has
heightened my longing. But at present I say Avaunt
to all desires.

While I think of it, let me beg of you to mention to
the superintendent of your printing-office, that in case
of another reprint of "Adam," I beg the word "sper-
rit" (for "spirit") may be particularly attended to.
Adam never said "speerit," as he is made to do in
the cheaper edition, at least in one place — his speech
at the birthday dinner. This is a small matter, but
it is a point I care about.

Words fail me about the not impossible Pug, foi*
some compunction at having mentioned my unreason-
able wish will mingle itself paradoxically with the hope
that it may be fulfilled.

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1859.] Responsibility of Authorship. 89

I hope we shall have other interviews to remember Letter to
this time next year, and that you will find me without Biack-
aggravated symptoms of the "author's malady" — a July, 1859.
determination of talk to my own books, which I was
alarmingly conscious of when you and the Major were
here. After all, I fear authors must submit to be
something of monsters — not quite simple, healthy hu-
man beings ; but I will keep my monstrosity within
bounds if possible.

The things you tell me are just such as I need to Letter to

know — I mean about the help my book is to the peo-26th juiyf

1859.
pie who read it. The weight of my future life — the .

self- questioning whether my nature will be able to \
meet the heavy demands upon it, both of personal '
duty and intellectual production, presses upon me al-
most continually in a way that prevents me even from
tasting the quiet joy I might have in the work done. \
Buoyancy and exultation, I fancy, are out of the ques-
tion when one has lived so long as I have. But I am
the better for every word of encouragement, and am
helped over many days by such a note as yours. I
often think of my dreams when I was four or five and
twenty. I thought then how happy fame would make
me ! I feel no regret that the fame, as such, brings
no pleasure ; but it «• a grief to me that I do not con-
stantly feel strong in thankfulness that my past life
has vindicated its uses and given me reason for glad-
itess that such an unpromising woman-child was born
into the world. I ought not to care about small an-
noyances, and it is chiefly egoism that makes them
annoyances. I had quite an enthusiastic letter from
Herbert Spencer the other day about "Adam Bede."
He says he feels the better for reading it — really words
to be treasured up. I can't bear the idea of appear-

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90 Thorns in Actual Fame. [Wandsworth,

Letter to ing further in the papers. And there is no one now

Mrs. Bray, , •■•«

26th July, except people who would not be convinced, though
one rose from the dead, to whom any statement apropos
of Liggins would be otherwise than superfluous. I
dare say some " investigator " of the Bracebridge order
will arise after I am dead and revive the story — and per-
haps posterity will believe in Liggins. Why not ? A
man a little while ago wrote a pamphlet to prove that
the Waverley novels were chiefly written, not by Wal-
ter Scott, but by Thomas Scott and his wife Elizabeth.
The main evidence being that several people thought
Thomas cleverer than Walter, and that in the list of
the Canadian regiment of Scots to which Thomas be-
longed many of the names of the Waverley novels oc-
curred — among the rest Monk — and in " AVoodstock "
there is a General Monk! The writer expected to get
a great reputation by his pamphlet, and I think it might
have suggested to Mr. B. his style of critical and his-
torical inference. I must tell you, in confidence^ that
Dickens has written to me the noblest, most touching
words about "Adam " — not h)rperbolical compliments,
^ but expressions of deep feeling. He says the reading
made an epoch in his life.
Letter to Pug is comc ! comc to fill up the void left by false
ESack- and narrow-hearted friends. I see already that he is
Juiy/i8s9. without cnvy, hatred, or malice — that he will betray
no secrets, and feel neither pain at my success nor
pleasure in my chagrin. I hope the photograph does
justice to his physiognomy. It is expressive : full of
gentleness and affection, and radiant with intelligence
when there is a savory morsel in question — a hope-
ful indication of his mental capacity. I distrust all
intellectual pretension that announces itself by obtuse-
ness of palate !

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1859.] A?"- 91

I wish you could see him in his best pose — ^when I Letter to
have arrested him in a violent career of carpet-scratch- Black-
ing, and he looks at me with fore-legs very wide apart, Juiy/i859.
trying to penetrate the deep mystery of this arbitrary,
not to say capricious, prohibition. He is snoring by
my side at this moment, with a serene promise of re-
maining quiet for any length of time; he couldn't
behave better if he had been expressly educated for
me. I am too lazy a lover of dogs and all earthly
things to like them when they give me much trouble,
preferring to describe the pleasure other people have
in taking trouble.

Alas ! the shadow that tracks all earthly good — the
possibility of loss. One may lose one's faculties,
which will not always fetch a high price ; how much
more a Pug worth unmentionable sums — a Pug which
some generous-hearted personage in some other corner
of Great Britain than Edinburgh may even now be
sending emissaries after, being bent on paying the
kindest, most delicate attention to a sensitive mortal
not sufficiently reticent of wishes.

All I can say of that generous-hearted personage
No. 2 is, that I wish he may get — somebody else's
Pug, not mine. And all I will say of the sensitive,
insufficiently reticent mortal No. 2 is, that I hope he
may be as pleased and as grateful as George Eliot.

I look forward to playing duets with you as one of Letter to
my future pleasures ; and if I am able to go on work- lcwcs,
ing, I hope we shall afford to have a fine grand-piano. ?8s9. "^'
I have none of Mozart's Symphonies, so that you can
be guided in your choice of them entirely by your own
taste. I know Beethoven's Sonata in E fiat well ; it
is a very charming one, and I shall like to hear you
play it. That is one of my luxuries — to sit still and

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92 Desire to Play the Violin. [Wandsworth,

Letter to hear some one playing my favorite music ; so that you
Lewes, " may be sure you will find willing ears to listen to the
1859. ' fruits of your industrious practising.

There are ladies in the world, not a few, who play
the violin, and I wish I were one of them, for then
we could play together sonatas for the piano and violin,
which make a charming combination. The violin
' gives that keen edge of tone which the piano wants.
I like to know that you were gratified by getting a
watch so much sooner than you expected ; and it was
the greater satisfaction to me to send it you, because
you had earned it by making good use of these pre-
cious years at Hofwyl. It is a great comfort to your
father and me to think of that, for we, with our old
grave heads, can't help talking very often of the need
our boys will have for all sorts of good qualities and
habits in making their way through this difficult life.
It is a world, you perceive, in which cross-bows will
be launisch sometimes, and frustrate the skill of ex-
cellent marksmen — how much more of lazy bunglers ?
The first volume of the "Physiology of Common
Life " is just published, and it is a great pleasure to
see so much of your father's hard work successfully,
finished. He has been giving a great deal of labor
to the numbers on the physiology of the nervous sys-
tem, which are to appear in the course of two or three
months, and he has enjoyed the labor in spite of the
drawback of imperfect health, which obliges him very
often to leave the desk with a hot and aching head.
It is quite my worst trouble that he has. so much of
this discomfort to bear ; and we must all try and make
everything else as pleasant to him as we can, to make
up for it.

Tell Thornton he shall have the book he asks for,

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1S59.] Artistic Combinations. 93

if possible — I mean the book of moths and butter- Letter to
flies ; and tell Bertie I expect to hear about the won- Lewes,
derful things he has done with his pocket-knife. Tell ?859. ^*
him he is equipped well enough to become king of a
desert island with that pocket-knife of his ; and if, as
I think I remember, it has a corkscrew attached, he
would certainly have more implements than he would
need in that romantic position.

We shall hope to hear a great deal of your journey,
with all its haps and mishaps. The mishaps are just
as pleasant as the haps when they are past — that is
one comfort for tormented travellers.

You are an excellent correspondent, so I do not fear
you will flag in writing to me ; and remember, you are
always giving a pleasure when you write to me.

Aug. II. — Received a letter from an American — journal, ,-
Mr. J. C. Evans — asking me to write a story for an ' ^^
American periodical. Answered that I could not
write one for less than ;f 1000, since, in order to do
it, I must suspend my actual work.

I do wish much to see more of human life: how Letter to

, . , , _ Madame

can one see enough m the short years one has to stay Bodichon,
in the world ? But I meant that at present my mind 1859.
works with the most freedom and the keenest sense ,
of poetry in my remotest past, and there are many
strata to be worked through before \ can begin to use,
artistically, any material I may gather in the present.
Curiously enough, apropos of your remark about
" Adam Bede," there is much less " out of my own
life " in that book— />., the materials are much more
a combination from imperfectly known and widely
sundered elements than the " Clerical Scenes." I'm
so glad you haye enjoyed these — so thankful for the
words you write me.

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94 The New Story. [Wandsworth,

Journal, Aug, 12. — Mr. J. C. Evans wrote again, declaring

* ^'' his willingness to pay the ;f looo, and asking for an

interview to arrange preliminaries.

Aug, 15. — Declined the American proposition, which

was to write a story of twelve parts (weekly parts) in

the New York Century for ;f 1200.

Letter to I havc re-read your whole proof, and feel that every

HenDdi, scrious reader will be impressed with the indications

!8s9. "*^ of real truth-seeking and heart-experience in the tone.

Beginnings are always troublesome. Even Macaulay's

few pages of introduction to his Introduction in the

English History are the worst bit of writing in the

book. It was no trouble to me to read your proof, so

don*t talk as if it had been.

Journal, Aug, 1 7. — Received a letter from Blackwood, with

* ^* check for ;^2oo for second edition of " Clerical

Scenes."

Letter to I'm glad my story cleaves to you. At present I

Biacic- have no hope that it will affect people as strongly as

Aug. 1859. " Adam " has done. The characters are on a lower

l&vel generally, and the environment less romantic.

But my stories grow in me like plants, and this is

only in the leaf -bud. I have faith that the flower

will come. Not enough faith, though, to make me like

the idea of beginning to print till the flower is fairly

out — ^till I know the end as well as the beginning.

Pug develops new charms every day. I think, in
the prehistoric period of his existence, before he came
to me, he had led a sort of Caspar Hauser life, shut
up in a kennel in Bethnal Green ; and he has had to
get over much astonishment at the sight of cows and
other rural objects on a large scale, which he marches
up to and surveys with the gravity of an " Own Cor-
respondent," whose business it is to observe. He

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1859.] Captain Speke. 95

has absolutely no bark ; but, en revanche^ he sneezes Letter to
powerfully, and has speaking eyes, so the media of Black-
communication are abundant. He sneezes at the Aug. 1859.
world in general, and he looks affectionately at me.

I envy you the acquaintance of a genuine non-book-
ish man like Captain Speke. I wonder when men of
that sort will take their place as heroes in our litera-
ture, instead of the inevitable " genius ?"

Aug, 20. — Letter from the troublesome Mr. Quirk Journal,
of Attleboro, still wanting satisfaction about Liggins.
I did not leave it unanswered, because he is a friend
of Chrissey's, but G. wrote for me.

Our great difficulty is Time, I am little better than Letter to

^ >•,' *^--"-.. , , , , , ,. ,,. Miss Sara

a sicjj: nigg er with the lash behind him at present. Henneii,
If we go to Penmaenmawr we shall travel all through 1859.
by night, in order not to lose more than one day \ and
we shall pause at Lichfield on our way back. To
pause at Coventry would be a real pleasure to me ;
but I think, even if we could do it on our way home,
it would be better economy to wait until the sense of
hurry is past, and make it a little reward for work
done. The going to the coast seems to be a wise
measure, quite apart from indulgence. We are both
so feeble; but otherwise I should have kept my
resolution and remained quiet here for the next six
months.

Aug, 25. — In the evening of this day we set off on journal,
our journey to Penmaenmawr. We reached Conway
at half-past three in the morning ; and finding that it
was hopeless to get a bed anyi^^here, we walked about
the town till the morning began to dawn, and we could
see the outline of the fine old castle's battlemented
walls. In the morning we went to Llandudno, think-
ing that might suit us better than Penmaenmawr. We

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96 Trip to Penntaenmawr. [Wandsworth,

Journal, found it Ugly and fashionable. Then we went off to
•**'• Penmaenmawr, which was beautiful to our hearts' con-
tent — or rather discontent — for it would not receive
us, being already filled with visitors. Back again in
despair to Conway, where we got temporary lodgings
at one of the numerous Joneses. This particular
Jones happened to be honest and obliging, and we
did well enough for a few days in our in-door life, but
out-of-doors there were cold winds and rain. One day
we went to Abergele and found a solitary house called
Beach House, which it seemed possible we might have
at the end of a few days. But no ! And the winds
were so cold on this northerly coast that George was
not sorry, preferring rather to take flight southward.
So we set out again on 31st, and reached Lichfield
about half-past five. Here we meant to pass the night,
that I might see my nieces — dear Chrissey's orphan
children — Emily and Kate. I was much comforted
by the sight of them, looking happy, and apparently
. under excellent care in Miss Eborall's school. We
slept at the " Swan," where I remember being with
my father and mother when I was a little child, and
afterwards with my father alone, in our last journey
into Derbyshire. The next morning we set off again,
and completed our journey to Weymouth. Many de-
licious walks and happy hours we had in our fortnight
there. A letter from Mr. Langford informed us that
the subscription for the sixth edition of "Adam Bede "
was 1000. Another pleasant incident was a letter
from my old friend and school-fellow, Martha Jackson,
asking if the author of "Adam Bede" was her Mar-
ian Evans.

Sept. 16. — We reached home, and found letters
awaiting us — one from Mr. Quirk, finally renouncing

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1859] ^^^^ Englishwoman s Journal. 97

Liggins ! — ^with tracts of an ultra-evangelical kind for joomai,
me, and the Parish Mag., etc., from the Rev, Erskine ' **
Clark of St Michael's, Derby, who had written to me
to ask me to help him in this sort of work.

I have just been reading, with deep interest and utter to
heart-stirring, the article on the Infant Seamstresses Bodichon,

17th Sept.

in the Englishwoman's youmal. I am one among the 1859.
grateful readers of that moving description — moving
because the writer's own soul was moved by love and
pity in the writing of it. These are the papers that
will make the " Journal " a true organ with 2l function,
I am writing at the end of the day, on the brink of
sleep, too tired to think of anything but that picture
of the little sleeping slop -worker who had pricked
her tiny finger so.

Sept, 18. — A volume of devotional poetry from the Journal,
authoress of " Visiting my Relations," with an inscrip-
tion admonishing me not to be beguiled by the love
of money. In much anxiety and doubt about my new
novel,

Oct, 7. — Since the last entry in my Journal various
matters of interest have occurred. Certain "new" ^
ideas have occurred to me in relation to my novel, .
and I am in better hope of it. At Weymouth I had '
written to Blackwood to ask him about terms, sup- '
posing I published in "Maga." His answer deter-
mined me to decline. On Monday, the 26th, we set
out on a three days' journey to Lincolnshire and back —
very pleasant and successful both as to weather and the
object I was in search of. A less pleasant business
has been a correspondence wdth a critin — a Warwick-
shire magistrate, who undertakes to declare the proc-
ess by which I wrote my books — and who is the
chief propagator and maintainer of the story that

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98 ''Physiology of Common Life:' [Wandsworth,

Journal, Liggins is at the bottom of the " Clerical Scenes " and
" Adam Bede." It is poor George who has had to
conduct the correspondence, making his head hot by
it, to the exclusion of more fructifying work. To-day,
in answer to a letter from Sara, I have written her an
account of my interviews with my Aunt Samuel. This
evening comes a letter from Miss Brewster, full of
well-meant exhortation.
Letter to The vcry best bit of news I can tell you to begin
Lewes. ' with Is that your father's " Physiology of Common
1859. Life " is selling remarkably well, being much in re-
quest among medical students. You are not to be a
medical student, but I hope, nevertheless, you will by-
and-by read the work with interest. There is to be a
new edition of the " Sea-side Studies " at Christmas,
or soon after— a proof that this book also meets with
a good number of readers. I wish you could have
seen to-day, as I did, the delicate spinal cord of a
dragon-fly — like a tiny thread with tiny beads on it —
which your father had just dissected ! He is so won-
derfully clever now at the dissection of these delicate
things, and has attained this cleverness entirely by de-
voted practice during the last three years. I hope you
have some of his resolution and persistent regularity
in work. I think you have, if I may judge from your
application to music, which I am always glad to read
of in your letters. I was a very idle practiser, and I
, often regret now that when I had abundant time and

opportunity for hours of piano playing I used them
so little. I have about eighteen Sonatas and Sym-
phonies of Beethoven, I think, but I shall be delight-
ed to find that you can play them better than I can.
I am very sensitive to blunders and wrong notes, and
instruments out of tune; but I have never played

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i859.] ^^« Bracebridge and Liggins, 99

much from ear, though I used to play from memory Letter to

Cluuiies L.

a great deal. The other evening Mr. Pigott, whom Lewes, 7th
you remember, Mr. Redford, another friend of your
father's, and Mr. Wilkie Collins dined with us, and
we had a charming musical evening. Mr. Pigott has
a delicious tenor voice, and Mr. Redford a fine bary-
tone. The latter sings "Adelaide," that exquisite
song of Beethoven's, which I should like you to learn.
Schubert's sonjgs, too, I especially delight in ; but, as
you say, they are difficult.

It is pleasant to have to tell you that Mr. Brace- Letter to
bridge has been at last awakened to do the right Henndi,
thing. This morning came a letter enclosing the fol- 1859.
lowing to me :

" Madame, I have much pleasure on receiving your
declaration that 'etc., etc.,' in replying that I frankly
accept your declaration as the truth, and I shall re-
peat it if the'contrary is again asserted to me."

This is the first symptom we have had from him of
common-sense. I am very thankful — for it ends trans-
actions with him.

Mr. Lewes is of so sensitive a temperament, and
so used to feeling more angry and more glad on my
behalf than his own, that he has been made, several
mornings, quite unable to go on with his work by this
irritating correspondence. It is all my fault, for if
he didn't see in the first instance that I am com-
pletely upset by anything ^that arouses unloving emo-
tions, he would never feel as he does about outer
sayings and doings. No one is more indifferent
than he is to what is said about himself. No more
about my business, let us hope, for a long while to
come!

The Congreves are settled at home again now— ?

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lOO Sequel to ^'Adam Bede'' [Wandsworth,

Letter to blcssing US with the sight of kind faces — Mr. Con-

MissSara i • • , • j- ,

Hcnneu, grcve beginning his medical course.

X859. Delicious confusion of ideas ! Mr. Lewes, walking

in Wandsworth, saw a good woman cross over the
street to speak to a blind man. She accosted him
with, " Well, / knew you, though you are dark /"

Letter to I wish you had read the letter you enclosed to me ;

Black- it is really curious. The writer, an educated person,

Oct 1859- asks me to perfect and extend the benefit ** Adam
Bede " has " conferred on society " by writing a sequel
to it, in which I am to tell all about Hetty after her
reprieve, " Arthur's efforts to obtain the reprieve, and
his desperate ride after obtaining it — Dinah on board
the convict ship — Dinah's letters to Hetty — and what-
ever the author might choose to reveal concerning Het-
ty's years of banishment. Minor instances of the in-
completeness which induces an unsatisfactory feeling
may be alleged in the disposal of the locket and ear-
rings — ^which everybody expects to re-appear — and in
the incident of the pink silk neckerchief, of which all
would like to hear a little more ! !"

I do feel more than I ought about outside sayings
and doings, and I constantly rebuke myself for all that
part of my susceptibility, which I know to be weak
and egoistic ; still what is said about one's art is not
V merely a personal matter — it touches the very highest
things one lives for. Truth in art is so startling that
no one can believe in it as art, and the specific forms
of religious life which have made some of the grand-
est elements in human history are looked down upon
as if they were not within the artist's sympathy and
veneration and intensely dramatic reproduction. "I
do well to be angry " on that ground, don't I ? The
simple fact is, that I never saw anything of my aunt's

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1859] ''Sister Maggie^ loi

writinff, and Dinah's words came from me " as the Letter to

John

tears come because our heart is full, and we can't help Biack-

^ wood, 16th

them." Oct 1859.

If you were living in London instead of at Edin-
burgh, I should ask you to read the first volume of
" Sister Ma gg ie" at once, for the sake of having your .
impression, but it is inconvenient to me to part with
the MS. The great success of " Adam " makes my
writing a matter of more anxiety than ever. I sup-
pose there is a little sense of responsibility mixed up
with a great deal of pride. And I think I should worry
myself still more if I began to print before the thing
is essentially complete. So on all grounds it is better
to wait. How clever and picturesque the " Horse-
dealer in Syria " is ! I read him with keen interest,
only wishing that he saw the seamy side of things
rather less habitually. Excellent Captain Speke can't
write so well, but one follows him out of grave sym-
pathy. That a man should live through such things
as that beetle in his ear ! Such papers as that make
the specialiU of Blackwood — one sees them nowhere
else.

Oct 16. — Yesterday came a pleasant packet of let- journal,
ters : one from Blackwood, saying that they are print-
ing a seventh edition of " Adam Bede " (of 2000), and
that " Clerical Scenes " will soon be exhausted. I
have finished the first volume of my new novel, " Sis- \
ter Maggie ;" have got my legal questions answered j
satisfactorily, and when my headache has cleared off
must go at it full speed.

Oct, 25. — ^The day before yesterday Herbert Spencer
dined with us. We have just finished reading aloud
" Pfere Goriot " — a hateful book. I have been reading
lately and have nearly finished Comte's " Catechism."

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I02 Generosity of Blackwood. [Wandsworth,

Journal, Oct, 28. — Received from Blackwood a check for
;f 400, the last payment for " Adam Bede " in the
terms of the agreement. But in consequence of the
great success, he proposes to pay me ;^8oo more at
the beginning of next year. Yesterday Smith, the
publisher, called to make propositions to G. about
writing in the Cornhill Magazine,

Letter to I beg that you and Major Blackwood will accept

John

Black- my thanks for your proposal to give me a further
Oct ^859. share in the success of " Adam Bede," beyond the
terms of our agreement, which are fulfilled by the
second check for ;f 400, received this morning.
Neither you nor I ever calculated on half such a
success, thinking that the book was too quiet, and
too unflattering to dominant fashion, ever to be very
popular. I hope that opinion of ours is a guarantee
that there is nothing hollow or transient in the re-
ception " Adam " has met with. Sometimes when I
read a book which has had a great success, and am
unable to see any valid merits of an artistic kind to
account for it, I am visited with a horrible alarm lest
"Adam," too, should ultimately sink into the same
class of outworn admirations. But I always fall back
on the fact that no shibboleth and no vanity is flat-
tered by it, and that there is no novelty of mere form
in it which can have delighted simply by startling.

Journal, Nov, 10. — Dickcns dined with us tp-day, for the first
1859.

time, and after he left I went to the Congreves, where

George joined me, and we had much chat — about

George Stephenson, religion^ etc.

Letter to A Very beautiful letter — ^beautiful in feeline — ^that I

Miss Sara •' °

Henneii, havc rcceivcd from Mrs. Gaskell to-day, prompts me

iithNov. . , , , , . , , ,

1859. to write to you and let you know how entirely she has
freed herself from any imputation of being unwilling

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1859.] Mrs. Gaskell and Liggins. 103

to accept the truth when it has once clearly presented Letter to

^ ^ '^ Miss Sara

itself as truth. Since she has known " on authority " Henneii,

t . t 1 . , , , . xithNov.

that the two books are mine, she has reread them, 1859.
and has written to me, apparently on the prompting
they gave in that second reading: very sweet and
noble words they are that she has written to me.
Yesterday Dickens dined with us, on his return from
the country. That was a great pleasure to me : he is
a man one can thoroughly enjoy talking to — there is
a strain of real seriousness along with his keenness
and humor.

The Liggins affair is concluded so far as any action Letter to
of ours is concerned, since Mr. Quirk (the inmost cit- HenneU,
adel, I presume) has surrendered by writing an apol- 1859.
ogy to Blackwood, saying he now believes he was im-
posed on by Mr. Liggins. As to Miss Martineau, I
respect her so much as an authoress, and have so
pleasant a recollection of her as a hostess for three
days, that I wish that distant impression from herself
and her writings to be disturbed as little as possible
by mere personal details. Anything she may do or
say or feel concerning me personally is a matter of
entire indifference : I share her bitterness with a large
number of far more blameless people than myself. It
can be of no possible benefit to me, or any one else,
that I should know more of those things, either past,
present, or to come. " I do owe no man anything "
except to write honestly and religiously what comes
from my inward promptings j and the freer I am kept
of all knowledge of that comparatively small circle
who mingle personal regards or hatred with their
judgment or reception of my writings, the easier it
will be to keep my motives free from all indirectness
and write truly.

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104 Dickens's Periodicals. [Wandsworth,

Journal, Nov. 1 8. — On Monday Dickens wrote, asking me to
' ^^ give him, after I have finished my present novel, a
story to be printed in All the Year Round— to begin
four months after next Easter, and assuring me of my
own terms. The next day G. had an interview by
appointment with Evans (of Bradbury & Evans), and
Lucas, the editor of Once a Week, who, after prelimi-
nary pressing of G. himself to contribute, put forward
their wish that I should give them a novel for their
Magazine. They were to write and make an offer,
but have not yet done so. We have written to Dick-
ens, saying that time is an insurmountable obstacle to
his proposition, as he puts it.

I am reading Thomas k Kempis.

Nov. 19. — Mr. Lockhart Clarke and Mr. Herbert
Spencer dined with us.

Nov, 22. — We have been much annoyed lately by
Newby's advertisement of a book called " Adam Bede,
Junior," a sequel ; and to-day Dickens has written to
mention a story of the tricks which are being used to
push the book under the pretence of its being mine.
One librarian has been forced to order the book against
his will, because the public have demanded it. Dick-
ens is going to put an article on the subject in House-
hold Words, in order to scarify the rascally bookseller.

Nov, 23. — AVe began Darwin^s book on " The Origin
of Species " to-night Though full of interesting mat-
ter, it is not impressive, from want of luminous and
orderly presentation.

Nov, 24. — This morning I wrote the scene between

1 Mrs. Tulliver and Wakem. G. went into town and

saw young Evans (of Bradbury & Evans), who agreed

that it would be well to have an article in Punch on

this scoundrelly business of " Adam Bede, Junior."

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1859] ''Revue des Deux Mondesi 105

A divine day. I walked out, and Mrs. Congreve joined journal,
me. Then music, " Arabian Nights," and Darwin. * ^^

Nov, 25. — I am reading old Bunyan again, after the
long lapse of years, and am profoundly struck with
the true genius manifested in the simple, vigorous,
rhythmic style.

Thanks for Bentley, Some one said the writer of Letter to
the article on " Adam Bede " was a Mr. Mozeley, a ajth Nov.
clerg)rman, and a writer in the Times; but these reports
about authorship are as often false as true. I think
it is, on the whole, the best review we have seen, un-
less we must except the one in the Revue des Deux
Mandes, by Emile Montdgut. I don't mean to read
any reviews of my next book ; so far as they would
produce any effect, they would be confusing. Every-
body admires something that somebody else finds
fkult with ; and the miller with his donkey was in a
clear and decided state of mind compared with the
unfortunate writer who should set himself to please
all the world of review writers. I am compelled, in
spite of myself, to be annoyed with this business of
" Adam Bede, Junior." You see I am well provided
with thorns in the flesh, lest I should be exalted be-
yond measure. To part with the copyright of a book
which sells 16,000 in one year — ^to have a Liggins and
an unknown writer of one's "Sequel" all to one's
self — is excellent discipline.

We are reading Darwin's book on Species, just
come out after long expectation. It is an elaborate
exposition of the evidence in favor of the Develop-
ment Theory, and so makes an epoch. Do you see
how the publishing world is going mad on periodicals ?
If I could be seduced by such offers, I might have
written three poor novels, and made my fortune in

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io6 Liking for Algebra. [Wandsworth,

Letter to one year. Happily, I have no need to exert myself
asth nJ? when I say " Avaunt thee, Satan !" Satan, in the
* ^^ form of bad writing and good pay, is not seductive to

me.
Journal, Nov. 26. — Letter from Lucas, editor of Once a Week,

anxious to come to ^erms about my writing for said

periodical.
Letter to It was very pretty and generous of you to send me
Lewes, ' a nice long letter out of your turn, and I think I shall

a6thN0T. . ^ ,. _^.. rt.

1859. give you, as a reward, other opportunities of being
generous in the same way for the next few months,
for I am likely to be a poor correspondent, having my
head and hands full.

We have the whole of Vilmar's "Literatur Ges-
chichte," but not the remainder of the " Deutsche
Humoristik." I agree with you in liking the history
of German literature, especially the earlier ages — ^the
birth-time of the legendary poetry. Have you read
the " Nibelungenlied " yet ?

Whereabouts 'vcrey^ -in algebra ? It would be very
pleasant to study \i with you, if I could possibly find
time to rub up my knowledge. It is now a good while
since I looked into algebra, but I was very fond of it
in old days, though I dare say I never went so far as
you have now gone. Tell me your latitude and longi-
tude.

I have no memory of an autumn so disappointing
as this. It is my f^orite season. I delight especial-
ly in the golden and red tints under the purple clouds.
But this year the trees were almost stripped of their
leaves before they had changed color — dashed off
by the winds and rain. We have had no autumnal
beauty.

I am writing at night — ^very tired — so you must not

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rSsg] Letter from Mrs, GaskelL 107

wonder if I have left out words, or been otherwise
incoherent.

Nov. 29. — Wrote a letter to the Times, and to Delane joumai,
about Newby. " ^*

I took no notice of the extract you sent me from a Letter to
letter of Mrs. GaskfelPs, being determined not to engage Bodichon,
in any writing on the topic of my authorship, except fssg. ^
such as was absolutely demanded of us. But since
then I have had a very beautiful letter from Mrs.
Gaskell, and I will quote some of her words, because
they do her honor, and will incline you to think more
highly of her. She begins in this way: "Since I
heard, on authprity, that you were the author of
* Scenes of Clerical Life' and *Adam Bede,* I have
read them again, and I must once more tell you how
earnestly, fully, and humbly I admire them. I never
read anything so complete and beautiful in fiction in
my life before." Very sweet and noble of her, was
it not ? She went on to speak of her having held to
the notion of Liggins, but she adds, "I was never
such a goose as to believe that books like yours were
a mosaic of real and ideal." The " Seth Bede " and
"Adam Bede, Junior," are speculations of those who
are always ready to fasten themselves like leeches on
a popular fame. Such things must be endured : they
are the shadow to the bright fact of selling 16,000 in
one year. As to the silly falsehoods and empty opin-
ions afloat in some petty circles, I have quite con-
quered my temporary irritation about them — indeed,
I feel all the more serene now for that very irritation ;
it has impressed on me more deeply how entirely the
rewards of the artist lie apart from everything that is
narrow and personal : there is no peace until that les-
son is thoroughly learned. J[ shall go on writing from

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io8 Darwin's ^^ Origin of Species y [Wandsworth,

Letter to' my inward promptings — ^writing what I love and be-
Bodichon, lievc, what I feel to be true and good, if I can only
1859. render it worthily — and then leave all the rest to take
its chance : " As it was in the beginning, is now, and
ever shall be " with those who are to produce any art
that will lastingly touch the generations of men. We
have been reading Darwin's book on the "^rigin of
Species " just now : it makes an epoch, as the expres-
sion of his thorough adhesion, after long years of
study, to the. Doctrine of Development — and not the
adhesion of an anonym like the author of the " Ves-
tiges," but of a long-celebrated naturalist. The book
is sadly wanting in illustrative facts— of which he has
collected a vast number, but reserves them for a fut-
ure book, of which this smaller one is the avant-coureur.
This will prevent the work from becoming popular as
the " Vestiges " did, but it will have a great efifect in
the scientific world, causing a thorough and open dis-
cussion of a question about which people have hitherto
felt timid. So the world gets on step by step towards
brave clearness and honesty ! But to me the Develop-
ment Theory, and all other explanations of processes
by which things came to be, produce a feeble impres-
sion compared with the mystery that lies under the
processes. \ It is nice to think of you reading our great,
great favorite Molifere, while, for the present, we are
not taking him down from the shelves — only talking
about him, as we do very often. I get a good deal of
pleasure out of the sense that some one I love is read-
ing and enjoying my best-loved writers. I think the
" Misanthrope " the finest, most complete production
of its kind in the world. I know you enjoy the
" sonnet " scene, and the one between Arsinod and
Cdimfene.

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1859.] Shakspeare. 109

In opposition to most people who love to readiJ\x«xxo
Shakspeare, I like to see his plays acted better than HenncU,
any others; his great tragedies thrill me, let them becvSin/
acted how they may. I think it is something Iikef8s9.
what I used to experience in old days in listening to
uncultured preachers — the emotions lay hold of one
too strongly for one to care about the medium. Be-
fore all other plays I find myself cold and critical,
seeing nothing but actors and "properties." I like
going to those little provincial theatres. One's heart
streams out to the poor devils of actors who get so
little clapping, and will go home to so poor a supper.
One of my pleasures lately has been hearing repeat-
edly from my Genevese friends M. and Mme. d' Albert,
who were so good to me during my residence with
them. M. d'Albert had read the " Scenes of Clerical
Life " before he knew they were mine, and had been
so much struck with them that he had wanted to
translate them. One likes to feel old ties strength-
ened by fresh sympathies. The Comhill Magazine is
going to lead off with great spirit, and promises to.
eclipse all the other new-born periodicals. Mr. Lewes
is writing a series of papers for it — " Studies in Ani-
mal Life " — which are to be subsequently published in
a book. It is quite as well that your book should not
be ready for publication just yet. February is a much
better time than Christmas. I shall be one of your
most eager readers — ^for every book that comes from
the heart of hearts does me good, and I quite share
your faith that what you yourself feel so deeply and
find so precious will find a home in some other minds.
Do not suspect that I impose on you the task of
writing letters to answer my dilettante questions.
" Am I on a bed of roses ?" I have four children to

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I lO Christmas-day with Congreves, [Wandsworth,

Journal, Correspond with — the three boys in Switzerland, and
'^^^ Emily at Lichfield.

JDec, 15. — Blackwood proposes to give me for "The
/ Mill on the Floss " j^2ooo for 4000 copies of an edi-
tion at 3 1 J. 6d,y and after the same rate for any more
that may be printed at the same price: £1^^ for
1000 at 1 2 J., and £60 for 1000 at 6s, I have ac-
cepted.

Dec. 25. — Christmas-day. We all, including Pug,
dined with Mr. and Mrs. Congreve, and had a de-
lightful day. Mr. Bridges was there too.
Letter to I don't like Christmas to go by without sending

Mrs. Bray, , i -r i n i •

30th Dec. you a greetmg, though I have really nothmg to say
beyond that. We spent our Christmas-day with the
Congreves, shutting up our house and taking our
servant and Pug with us. And so we ate our tur-
key and plum-pudding in very social, joyous fashion
with those charming friends. Mr. Bridges was there
too.

We are meditating flight to Italy when my present
work is done, as our last bit of vagrancy for a long,
long while. We shall only stay two months, doing
nothing but absorb.

I don't think I have anything else to tell, except

that we, being very happy, wish all mortals to be in

like condition, and especially the mortals we know

in the flesh. Human happiness is a web with many

threads of pain in it — that is always sub auditum —

Twist ye, twine ye, even so, etc., etc.

Letter to I ucvcr before had so pleasant a New Year's greet-

fiJack- ing as your letter containing a check for jifSoo, for

Jan. iMo. which I have to thank you to-day. On every ground

— including considerations that are not at all of a

monetary kind — I am deeply obliged to you and to

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i86o.] Title of New Novel. 1 1 1

Major Blackwood for your liberal conduct in relation Letter to
to "Adam Bede." Biack-

K ' J. ' c ri wood, 3d

As, owing to your generous concession of the copy- Jan. i860,
right of "Adam Bede," the three books will be hence-
forth on the same footing, we shall be delivered from
further discussion as to terms.

We are demurring about the title. Mr. Lewes is
beginning to prefer " The House of Tulliver ; or, Life j
on the Floss," to our old notion of " Sister Maggie."
" The Tullivers ; or. Life on the Floss," has the ad-
vantage of slipping easily off the lazy English tongue,
but it is after too common a fashion ("The New-
comes," " The Bertrams," etc., etc.). Then there is
"The Tulliver Family; or. Life on the Floss." Pray
^ meditate, and give us your opinion.

I am very anxious that the "Scenes of Clerical
Life" should have every chance of impressing the
public with its existence: first, because I think it of
importance to the estimate of me as a writer that
"Adam Bede" should not be counted as my only
book ; and secondly, because there are ideas presented
in these stories about which I care a good deal, and
am not sure that I can ever embody again. This latter
reason is my private affair, but the other reason, if val-
id, is yours also. I must tell you that I had another
cheering letter to-day besides yours : one from a per-
son of mark in your Edinburgh University,* full of the
very strongest words of sympathy and encouragement,
hoping that my life may long be spared " to give pict-
ures of the deeper life of this age." So I sat down
to my desk with a delicious confidence that my audi-
ence is not made up of reviewers and literary clubs.

' Professor Blackie.

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112 Blackwood Suggests Title. [Wandsworth,

Letter to If there is any truth in me that the world wants, noth-
Biack- ing will hinder the world from drinking what it is
Jan. xlbo. athirst for. And if there is no needful truth in me, let

me, howl as I may in the process, be hurled into the

Dom Daniel, where I wish all other futile writers to

sink.
Your description of the "curling" made me envy

you the sight.
Letter to The sun is shining with us too, and your pleasant
Lewes, 4th letter made it seem to shine more brisrhtly. I am not

Jan. i860. ° •'

going to be expansive in this appendix to your father's
chapter of love and news, for my head is tired with
writing this morning — it is not so young as yours, you
know, and, besides, is a feminine head, supported by
weaker muscles and a weaker digestive apparatus
than that of a young gentleman with a broad chest
and hopeful whiskers. I don't wonder at your being
more conscious of your attachment to Hofwyl now the
time of leaving is so near. \_I fear you will miss a great
many things in exchanging Hofwyl, with its snowy
mountains and glorious spaces, for a very moderate
home in the neighborhood of London. You will have
a less various, more arduous life : but the time of
Entbehrung or Entsagung must begin, you know, for
every mortal of us. And let us hope that we shall all
— ^father and mother and sons — ^help one another with
love.

What jolly times you have had lately! It did us
good to read of your merr)anaking.
Letter to "The Mill on the Floss" be it then! The only
BUdc- objections are, that the mill is not strictly on the Floss,
Jan. i860, being on its small tributary, and that the title is of
rather laborious utterance. But I think these objec-
tions do not deprive it of its advantage over "The

11

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iS6o.] ^* The Mill on the Floss'' 1 1 3

TuUivers; or, Life on the Floss" — the only alterna- Letter to
tive„ so far as we can see. Pray give the casting-vote. Biack-

Easter Monday, I see, is on ihe 8th April, and I Jan. i860.
wish to be out by the middle or end of March. Ill-
ness apart, I intend to have finished Vol. III. by the
beginning of that month, and I hope no obstacle will
impede the rapidity of the printing.

JanSw, — I have had a very delightful letter of Journal,
sympathy frbm Professor Blackie of Edinburgh, which '^
came to me on New Year's morning, and a proposal
from Blackwood to publish a third edition of *• Clerical
Scenes " at 12^. George's article in the Comhill Mag-
azine — the first of a series of " Studies in Animal Life "
— is much admired, and in other ways our New Year
opens with happy omens.

Thank you for letting me see the specimen adver- Letter to
tisements ; they have helped us to come to a decision madc-
— namely, for " The Mill on the Floss." jaS^SL

I agree with you that it will be well not to promise
the book in March — not because I do not desire and
hope to be ready, but because I set my face against
all pledges that I am not sure of being able to fulfil.
The third volume is, I fancy, always more rapidly '
written than the rest. The third volume of " Adam
Bede " was written in six weeks, even with headach-
ing interruptions, because it was written under a stress ;
of emotion, which first volumes cannot be. I will send
you the first volume of "The Mill" at once. The
second is ready, but I would rather keep it as long as
I can. Besides the advantage to the book of being
out by Easter, I have another reason for wishing to
have done in time for that. We want to get away for
two months to Italy, if possible, to feed my mind with
fresh thoughts, and to assure ourselves of that fructi-

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114 Seeing Friends. [Wandsworth,

Letter to fying holiday before the boys are about us, making it
BUidc- difficult for us to leave home. But you may rely on it
Jan. JsS). that no amount of horse-power would make me hurry
over my book, so as not to do my best. If it is writ-
ten fast, it will be because I can't help writing it fast.
Journal, Jan. 1 6. — Finished my second volume this mom-
ing, and am going to send off the MS. of the first vol-
ume to-morrow. We have decided that the title shall
be " The Mill on the Floss." We have b'een reading
" Humphrey Clinker " in the evenings, and have been
much disappointed in it, after the praise of Thackeray
and Dickens.

Jan, 26.— Mr. Pigott, Mr. Redford, and Mr. F. Chap-
man dined with us, and we had a musical evening.
Mrs. Congreve and Miss Bury* joining us after din-
ner.
Letter to Thanks for your letter of yesterday, with the Gene-
Bkck- vese enclosure. No promise, alas ! of smallest watch
Jan. i86<J. expressing largest admiration, but a desire for " per-
mission to translate." ^

I have been invalided for the last week, and, of

course, am a prisoner in the castle of Giant Despair,

who growls in my ear that " The Mill on the Floss "

I is detestable, and that the last volume will be the cli-

j max of that general detestableness. Such is the elation

1 attendant on what a self-elected lady correspondent

of mine from Scotland calls my " exciting career !"

I have had a great pleasure this week. Dr. Inman
of Liverpool has dedicated a new book (** Foundation
for a New Theory and Practice of Medicine ") " to G.
H. Lewes, as an acknowledgment of benefit received
from noticing his close observation and clear induc-

* Mrs. Congreve's sister.

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i86o.] Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. 1 1 5

tive reasoning in * Sea-side Studies' and the * Physi- Letter to
ology of Common Life.' " Biack-

That IS really gratuymg, commg from 2iphystaan of jan.x86o.
some scientific mark, who is not a personal friend.

JFeb, 4. — Came this morning a letter from Black- joumai,
wood announcing the despatch of the first eight sheets
of proof of " The Mill on the Floss," and expressing
his delight in it. To - night G. has read them, and
says, " Ganz fatnosr Ebenezer !

Feb, 23.^ — Sir Edward L)rtton called on us. Guy
Darrell m proprid persond.

Sir Edward Lytton called on us yesterday. The Letter to
conversation lapsed chiefly into monologue, from the Biack-
difl&culty I found in making him hear, but under all Feb. isao.
disadvantages I had an agreeable impression of his
kindness and sincerity. He thinks the two defects of
" Adam Bede " are the dialect and Adam's marriage
with Dinah ; but, of course, I would have my teeth
drawn rather than give up either.

Jacobi told Jean Paul^hat unless he altered the
dknouement of his Titan he would withdraw his friend-
ship from him ; and I am preparing myself for your
lasting enmity on the ground of the tragedy in my \
third volume. But an unfortunate duck can only lay 1
blue eggs, however much white ones may be in demand.

Feb, 29. — G. has been in the town to-day, and has journal,
agreed for £z^o for " The Mill on the Floss " from '
Harpers of New York. This evening, too, has come a
letter from Williams & Norgate, saying that Tauchnitz j
will give j^ioo for the German reprint; also, that »
" Bede Adam " is translated into Hungarian.

March 5. — Yesterday Mr. Lawrence, the portrait-
painter, lunched with us, and expressed to G. his wish
to take my portrait.

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Ii6 ''Mill on the Floss'' Finished. [Wandsworth,

Journal, Marck 9. — ^Ycstcrday a letter from Blackwood, ex-

; pressing his strong delight in my third volume, which

[ he had read to the beginning of " Borne on the tide."

To-day young Blackwood called, and told us, among

other things, that the last copies of " Clerical Scenes "

had gone to-day — twelve for export. Letter came

I from Germany, announcing a translation of G.'s " Bio-

' graphical History of Philosophy."

March ii. — ^To-day the first volume of the German
translation of " Adam Bede " came. It is done by
Dr. Frese, the same man who translated the " Life of
Goethe."

March 20. — Professor Owen sent me his "Palaeon-
tology " to-day. Have missed two days of work from
headache, and so have not yet finished my book.
March 21. — Finished this morning "The Mill on
» the Floss," writing from the moment when Maggie,
\ carried out on the water, thinks of her mother and
' brother. We hope to start for Rome on Saturday,

24th.

Magnificat anima meal

The manuscript of "The Mill on the Floss"
bears the following inscription :
" To my beloved husband, George Henry Lewes, I
give this MS. of my third book, written in the sixth
year of our life together, at Holly Lodge, South Field,
Wandsworth, and finished 21st March, i860."
Letter to Your letter yesterday morning helped to inspire me
Blade- for the last eleven pages, if they have any inspiration
Marci^* in them. They were written in a furor ^ but I dare
say there is not a word different from what it would
have been if I had written them at the slowest pace.

We expect to start on Saturday morning, and to be
in Rome by Palm Sunday, or else by the following

i860.

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i86o.] Summary of Chapter IX. 1 17

Tuesday. Of course we shall write to you when we Letter to
know what will be our address in Rome. In theBUdc-
meantime news will gather. March,

I don't mean to send " The Mill on the Floss " to **^"
any one except to Dickens, who has behaved with a
delicate kindness in a recent matter, which I wish to
acknowledge.

I am grateful and yet rather sad to have finished —
sad that I shall live with my people on the banks of
the Floss no longer. But it is time that I should go
and absorb some new life and gather fresh ideas.

SUMMARY,

JANUARY, 1859, TO MARCH, 1860.

Looking for cases of inundation in Annual Register— Sevr
House — Holly Lodge, Wandsworth — Letter to John Blackwood
— George Eliot fears she has not characteristics of ** the popular
author" — Subscription to "Adam Bede" 730 copies — ^Apprecia-
tion by a cabinet-maker— Dr. John Brown sends " Rab and his
Friends " with an inscription — Letter to Blackwood thereon —
Tries to be hopeful— Letters to Miss Hennell— Description of
Holly Lodge — Miss Nightingale — Thoughts on death — Scott —
Mrs. Clarke writes — Mr. and Mrs. Congreve — Letter to Mrs. Bray
on effects of anxiety — Mrs. Clarke dying — Letter to John Black-
wood — Wishes Carlyle to read ** Adam Bede " — " Life of Fred-
eric " painful — Susceptibility to newspaper criticism — Edinburgh
more encouraging than London — Letter to Blackwood to stop
puffing notices — Letter from E. Hall, working-man, asking for
cheap editions — Sale of "Adam Bede " — Death of Mrs. Clarke —
1800 copies of "Adam Bede" sold — Letter to Blackwood —
Awakening to fame — Letter to Froude — Mrs. Poyser quoted in
House of Commons by Mr. Charles Buxton — Opinions of Charles
Reade, Shirley Brooks, and John Murray — Letter to John Black-
wood — Warwickshire correspondent insists that Liggins is author
of "Adam Bede" — Not flushed with success — Visit to Isle of
Wight — Letter to Miss Hennell on rewriting, and pleasure in

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ii8 Summary of Chapter IX. [1859-

Mr. and Mrs. Congreve — Letter to Timis^ denying that Liggins
is the author— Letter to Blackwood — The Liggins mjrth— Letter
from Bulwer— Finished "The Lifted Veil"— Writing "The
Tullivers " — Mrs.. Congreve — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Faith in
her — Letter from Madame Bodichon — Reply breathing joy in
s)anpathy — Letter to Major Blackwood — Mr. Anders's apology
for the Liggins business — "Adam Bede" worth writing — Dul-
wich gallery — Blackwood gives ;f 400 more in acknowledgment
of "Adam Bede's" success — Letter to Miss Hennell on Mrs.
Congreve — On difficulty of getting cheap music in England —
Professor Aytoun on "Adam Bede" — Letter to Major Black-
wood — Liggins — Mrs. Gaskell — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Dis-
like of Wandsworth — To Crystal Palace to hear " Messiah," and
reveals herself to Brays as author of "Adam Bede" — Letter to
Brays — Bad effect of talking of her books — Letter to Charles
Bray — Melancholy that her writing does not produce effect in-
tended — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — To Switzerland by Paris —
At Schweizerhof, Lucerne, with Congreves — Mr. Lewes goes to
Hofwyl — Return to Richmond by Bale and Paris — Fourth edi-
tion of " Adam Bede " (5000) sold in a fortnight — Letter to Mrs.
Bray on Mrs. Congreve — On the efifect of her books and fame —
Herbert Spencer on "Adam Bede" — Pamphlet to prove that
Scott's novels were written by Thomas Scott — Letter from Dick-
ens on "Adam Bede" referred to — Letter to John Blackwood
on " Pug " — Letter to Charles Lewes — " The Physiology of Com-
mon Life " — American proposition for a story for ;^I200 — Let-
ter to Madame Bodichon — Distance from experience artistically
necessary — Letter to John Blackwood — Development of stories
—Visit to Penmaenmawr — Return by Lichfield to We)anouth —
Sixth edition of "Adam Bede" — Back to Richmond — Anxiety
about new novel — ^Journey to Gainsboro*, Lincolnshire — Letter
to Miss Hennell — End of Liggins business — Letter to John
Blackwood — A correspondent suggests a sequel to "Adam Bede "
— Susceptibility to outside opinion — Seventh edition of "Adam
Bede" — Blackwood proposes to pay ;f8oo beyond the bargain
for success of "Adam Bede" — Dickens dines at Holly Lodge —
Letter to Miss Hennell— Quotes letter from Mrs. Gaskell— Miss
Martineau— Dickens asks for story for All the Year Round—
"Adam Bede, Junior "—Reading Darwin on " Origin of Species "
—Bunyan— Letter to Mr. Bray— Article on "Adam Bede "in

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i

i86o.] Summary of Chapter IX. 1 19

Bentley — In Revue des Deux Mondes^ by £mile Mont^gut — Re-
views generally — 16,000 of "Adam Bede" sold in year — Dar-
win's book — Letter to Charles Lewes — Mentions fondness of
algebra — Letter to Madame Bodichon quoting Mrs. Gaskell's
letter — Rewards of the artist lie apart from everything personal
— Darwin's book— Moliire — Letter to Miss Hennell — Likes to
see Shakspeare acted — Hears from M. and Mme. d'Albert —
Comhill Magazine — Blackwood's terms for " Mill on the Floss"
— Christmas-day with Congreves — Letter of sympa'thy from Pro-
fessor Blackie — Third edition of "Clerical Scenes" — Letters to
Blackwood — Thanks for concession of copyright of "Adam
Bede " — Title of new novel considered — Suggestion of the "Mill
on the Floss" accepted — The third volume of "Adam Bede"
written in six weeks — Depression with the " Mill'* — Sir Edward
Lytton — "Adam Bede" translated into Hungarian and German
— " Mill on the Floss" finished— Letter to Blackwood— Sad at
finishing — Start for Italy.

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CHAPTER X.

Italy, i860. We have finished our journey to Italy — the journey
I had looked forward to for years, rather with the
hope of the new elements it would bring to my culture
than with the hope of immediate pleasure. Travelling
can hardly be without a continual current of disappoint-
ment, if the main object is not the enlargement of one's
general life, so as to make even weariness and annoy-
ances enter into the sum of benefit. One great deduc-
tion to me from the delight of seeing world-famous ob-
jects is the frequent double consciousness which tells
me that I am not enjoying the actual vision enough,
and that, when higher enjoyment comes with the re-
production of the scenes in my imagination, I shall
have lost some of the details, which impress me too
feebly in the present, because the faculties are not
wrought up into energetic action.

I have no other journal than the briefest record of
what we did each day, so I shall put down my recollec-
tions whenever I happen to have leisure and inclination
— just for the sake of making clear to myself the impres-
sions I have brought away from our three months' travel.

The first striking moment in our journey was when
we arrived, I think about eleven o'clock at night, at
the point in the ascent of the Mont Cenis where we
were to quit the diligences and take to the sledges.
After a hasty drink of hot coffee in the roadside inn, our
large party — the inmates of three diligences — turned
out into the starlight to await the signal for getting into

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i86o.] Passage of Mont Cenis. 121

the sledges. That signal seemed to be considerably Italy, 186a.
on in the future — to be arrived at through much con-
fusion of luggage-lifting, voices, and leading about of
mules. The human bustle and confusion made a po-
etic contrast with the sublime stillness of the starlit
heavens spread over the snowy table-land and sur-
rounding heights. The keenness of the air contribu-
ted strongly to the sense of novelty; we had left our
every-day, conventional world quite behind us, and were
on a visit to Nature in her private home.

Once closely packed in our sledge, congratulating
ourselves that, after all, we were no more squeezed
than in our diligence, I gave myself up to as many
naps as chose to take possession of me, and actually
slept without very considerable interruption till we
were near the summit of the mighty pass. Already
there was a faint hint of the morning in the star-
light, which showed us the vast, sloping snow-fields as
we commenced the descent. I got a few glimpses of
the pure, far- stretching whiteness before the sharpen-
ing edge of cold forced us to close the window. Then
there was no more to be seen till it was time to get out
of the sledge and ascend the diligence once more : not,
however, without a preliminary struggle with the wind,
which fairly blew me down on my slippery standing-
ground. The rest of our descent showed us fine, va-
ried scenes of mountain and ravine till we got down at
Susa, where breakfast and the railway came as a desi-
rable variety after our long mountain journey and long
fast. One of our companions had been a gigantic
French soldier, who had in charge a bag of govern-
ment money. He was my vis-d-vis for some time, and
cramped my poor legs not a little with his precious
bag, which he would by no means part from.
II.— 6

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122 Count Cavour. [Turin,

Italy, i860. The approach to Turin by the railway gave us a
grand view of snowy, mountains surrounding the city
on three sides. A few hours of rest spent there could
leave no very vivid impression. A handsome street,
well broken by architectural details, with a glimpse of
snowy mountains at the end of the vista, colonnades
on each side, and flags waving their bright colors in
sign of political joy, is the image that usually rises be-
fore me at the mention of Turin. I fancy the said
street is the principal one, but in our walk about the
town we saw everywhere a similar character of pros-
perous, well-lodged town existence — only without the
colonnades and without the balconies and other de-
tails, which make the principal street picturesque.
This is the place that Alfieri lived in through many
of his young follies, getting tired of it at last for the
Piedmontese pettiness of which it was the centre.
And now, eighty years later, it is the centre of a wid-
ening life which may at last become the life of resus-
citated Italy. At the railway station, as we waited to
take our departure for Genoa, we had a sight of the
man whose name will always be connected with the
story of that widening life — Count Cavour — " imitant
son portrait," which we had seen in the shops, with un-
usual closeness. A man pleasant to look uj^on, with
a smile half kind, half caustic ; giving you altogether
the impression that he thinks of "many matters," but
thanks Heaven and makes no boast of them. He was
there to meet the Prince de Carignan, who was going
to Genoa on his way towards Flor-ence by the same
train as ourselves. The prince is a notability with a
thick waist, bound in by a gold belt, and with a fat face,
predominated over by a large mustache — " Non ragi-
onani di lui." The railway journey fioni Turin was

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i860.] Turin to Genoa, 123

chiefly distinguished by dust; but I slept through the itaiyi x86a
latter half, without prejudice, however, to the satisfac-
tion with which I lay down in a comfortable bedroom
in the Hotel Feder.

In Genoa again on a bright, warm spring morning !
I was here eleven years ago, and the image that visit
had left in my mind was surprisingly faithful, though
fragmentary. The outlook from our hotel was nearly
the same as before-^over a low building with a colon-
hade, at the masts of the abundant shipping. But there
was a striking change in the interior of the hotel. It
was like the other, a palace adapted to the purposes of
an inn ; but be-carpeted and be-furnished with an ex-
aggeration of English fashion.

We lost no time in turning out, after breakfast, into
the morning sunshine. George was enchanted with
the aspect of the place, as we drove or walked along
the streets. It was his first vision of anything corre-
sponding to his preconception of Italy. After the Ad-
lergasse, in Nurnberg, surely no streets can be more
impressive than the Strada Nuova and Strada Nuovis-
sima, at Genoa. In street architecture I can rise to
the higliest point of the admiration given to tlje Palla-
dia|i*style. And here in these chief streets of Genoa ,
the palaces have two advantages over those of Flor-
ence : they form a series, creating a general impres-
sion of grandeur of which each particular palace gets
the benefit ; and they have the open gateway, showing
the cortile within — sometimes containing grand stone
staircases. And- all this architectural splendor is ac-
companied with the signs of actual prosperity. Genova
la Superba is not a name of the past merely.

We ascended the tower of Santa Maria di Carignano
to get a panoramic view of the city, with its embosoming

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124 Trip to Pisa. [Leghorn,

Italy, x86o. hills and bay — saw the cathedral, with its banded
black-and-white marble — the churches of the Annun-
ziata and San Ambrogio, with their wealth of gilding
and rich pink-brown marbles — the Palazzo Rosso, with
its collection of eminently forgettable pictures— and the
pretty gardens of the Palazzo Doria, with their flourish-
ing green clpse against the sea.

A drive in the direction of the Campo Santo, along
the dr)', pebbly bed of the river, showed us the terraced
hills planted with olives, and many picturesque groups of
the common people with mules or on carts ; not to men-
lion what gives beauty to every corner of the inhabited
world — the groups of children squatting against walls
or trotting about by the side of their elders or grinning
together over their play.

One of the personages we were pleased to encoun-
ter in the streets here was -a quack — a Dulcamara —
mounted on his carriage and holding forth with much
brio before proceeding to take out the tooth of a negro,
already seated in preparation.

We left Genoa on the second evening — unhappily, a
little too long after sundown, so that we 'dfd not get a
perfect view of the grand city from the sea. The pale
starlight could bring out no color. We had a pr(S^r-
ous passage to Leghorn.

Leghorn on a brilliant, warm morning, with five or
six hours before us to fill as agreeably^as possible!
Of course, the first thought was to go to Pisa, but the
train would not start till eleven ; so; in the meantime,
we took a drive about the prosperous-looking town,
and saw the great reservoir which receives the water
brought from the distant mountains ; a beautiful and
interesting sight — to look into the glassy depth and
see columns and grand arches reflected as if in mock-

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i860.] Description of Pisa, 125

ery and frustration of one's desire to see the bottom. Italy, 186a
But in one corner the light fell so as to reveal that
reality instead of the beautiful illusion. On our way
back we passed the Hebrew synagogue, and were glad
of our coachman's suggestion that we should enter,
seeing it was the Jews* Sabbath.

At Pisa we took a carriage and drove at once to '*'

the cathedral, seeing as we went the well-looking lines
of building on each side of the Arno.

A wonderful sight is that first glimpse of the cathe-
dral, with the leaning campanile on one side and the
baptistery on the other, green turf below, and a clear,
blue sky above ! The structure of the campanile is
exquisitely light and graceful — tier above tier of small
circular arches, supported by delicate, round pillars
narrowing gradually in circumference, but very slightly,
so that there is no striking difference of size between
the base and summit. The campanile is all of white
marble, but the cathedral has the bands of black and
white, softened in effect by the yellowing which time
has given^to the white. There is a family likeness
among- all these structures : they all have the delicate
lltt W colonnades and circular arches. But the bap-
tiiiery has stronger traits of the Gothic style in the
pinnacles that crown the encircling colonnade.

After some dusty delay outside the railway station
we set off back again to Livorno, and forthwith got on
board our steamboat again — to awake next morning
(being Palm-Sunday) at Civita Vecchia. Much waiting
before we were allowed to land ; and again much wait-
ing for the clumsy process of "visiting" our luggage.
I was amused while sitting at the Dogana, where
almost every one was cross and busy, to see a dog
making his way quietly out with a bone in his mouth.

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126 First Sight of Rome. [Rome,

Italy, i86a Getting into our railway carriage, our vis-d-vis — a
stout, amiable, intelligent Livornian, with his wife and
son, named Dubreux — exclaimed, " C'en est fini d'un
peuple qui n'est pas capable de changer une betise
comme ga !" George got into pleasant talk with him,
and his son, about Edinburgh and the scientific men
there — the son having been there for some lime in
order to go through a course of practical science.
The father was a naturalist — an entomologist, I
think.

It was an interesting journey from Civita Vecchia
to Rome : at first, a scene of rough, hilly character,
then a vast plain, frequently marshy, crowded with
asphodels, inhabited by buffaloes; here and there a
falcon or other slow, large- winged bird floating and
alighting.

At last we came in sight of Rome, but there was
nothing imposing to be seen. The chief object was
what I afterwards knew to be one of the aqueducts,
but which I then, in the vagueness of my conceptions,
guessed to be the ruins of baths. The railway station
where we alighted looked remote and countrified; only
the omnibuses and one family carriage were w^^ng,
so that we were obliged to take our chance in on?of
the omnibuses — that is, the chance of finding no place
left for us in the hotels. And so it was. Every one
wanted to go to the Hotel d'Angleterre, and every one
was disappointed. We, at last, by help of some fel-
low-travellers, got a small room au iroisilme at the
Hotel d'Am^rique ; and as soon as that business was
settled we walked out to look at Rome — not without a
rather heavy load of disappointment on our minds
from the vision we had of it from the omnibus win-
dows. A weary length of dirty, uninteresting streets

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i860.] Disappointed at First. 1 27

had brought us within sight of the dome of St Peter's, 'taiy, i860,
which was not impressive, seen in a peeping, makeshift
manner, just rising above the houses ; and the Castle
of St. Angelo seemed but a shabby likeness of the
engravings. Not one iota had I seen that corre-
sponded with my preconceptions.

Our hotel was in the Strada Babuino, which leads
directly from the Piazza del Popolo to the Piazza di
Spagna. We went to the latter for our first walk, and
arriving opposite the high, broad flights of stone steps
which lead up to the Trinitk di Monte, stopped for the
first time with a sense that here was something not
quite common and ugly. But I think we got hardly
any farther, that evening, than the tall column at the
end of the piazza, which celebrates the final settle-
ment by Pius IX. of the Virgin's Immaculate Concep-
tion. Oh, yes ; I think we wandered farther among
narrow and ugly streets, and came into our hotel
again still with some dejection at the probable rela-
tion our " Rome visited " was to bear to our " Rome
unvisited."

Discontented with our little room at an extravagant
height of stairs and price, we found and took lodgings
the next day in the Corso opposite St. Carlo, with a
well-mannered Frenchman named Peureux and his lit-
tle, dark, Italian wife — and so felt ourselves settled for
a month. By this time we were in better spirits ; for
in the morning we had been to the Capitol (Campi-
doglio, the modern variant for Capitolium), had as-
cended the tower, and had driven to the Coliseum.
The scene, looking along the Forum to the Arch of
Titus, resembled strongly that mixture of ruined gran-
deur with modern life which I had always had in my
imagination at the mention of Rome. The approach

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128 View from the Capitol. [Rome,

Italy, i860, to the Capitol from the opposite side is also impres-
sive : on the right hand the broad, steep flight of steps
leading up to the Church and Monastery of Ara Coeli,
placed, some say, on the site of the Arx ; in the front
a less sleep flight of steps h cordon leading to that
lower, flatter portion of the hill which was called the
Intermontiunij and which now forms a sort of piazza,
with the equestrian statue of ^[arcus Aurelius in the
centre, and on three sides buildings designed, or rather
modified, by Michael Angelo— on the left the Museum,
on the right the Museo dei Conservatori, and, on the
side opposite the steps, the building devoted to public
offices (Palazzo dei Senatori), in the centre of which
stands the tower. On each hand, at the summit of the
steps, are the two Colossi, less celebrated but hardly
less imposing in their calm grandeur than the Colossi
of the Quirinal. They are strangely streaked and dis-
figured by the blackening weather; but their large-
eyed, mild might gives one a thrill of awe, half like
what might have been felt by the men of old who saw
the divine twins watering their steeds when they
brought the news of victory.

Perhaps the world can hardly offer a more interest-
ing outlook than that from the tower of the Capitol.
The eye leaps first to the mountains that bound the
Ca*mpagna7~the Sabine and Alban Hills and the soli-
tary Soracte farther on to the left. Then, wandering
back across the Campagna, it searches for the Sister
Hills, hardly distinguishable now as hills. The Pala-
tine is conspicuous enough, marked by the ruins of the
Palace of the Caesars, and rising up beyond the ex-
tremity of the Forum. And now, once resting on the
Forum, the eye will not readily quit the long area that
begins with the Clivus Capitolinus and extends to the

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;86a] The Temples and Palaces. 129

Coliseum — an area that was once the very focus of the itaiy» «86«>-
world. The Campo Vaccino, the site probably of the
Comitium, was this first morning covered with carts
and animals, mingling a simple form of actual life with
those signs of the highly artificial life that had been
crowded here in ages gone by : the three Corinthian
pillars at the extremity of the Forum, said to have be-
longed to the Temple of Jupiter Stator ; the grand
temple of Antoninus and Faustina ; the white arch of
Titus; the Basilica of Constantine; the temple built
by Adrian, with its great, broken granite columns scat-
tered around on the green, rising ground ; the huge
arc of the Coliseum and the arch of Constantine.

The scenes of these great relics remained our favorite
haunt during our stay at Rome; and one day, near the
end of it, we entered the enclosure of the Clivus Capi-
tolinus and the excavated space of the Forum. The
ruins on the Clivus — the facade of massive columns on
the right, called the temple of Vespasian; the two
Corinthian columns, called the temple of Saturn, in
the centre; and the arch of Septimius Severus on the
left — have their rich color set off by the luxuriant green,
clothing the lower masonry, which formed the founda-
tions of the crowded buildings on this narrow space,
and, as a background- to them all, the rough solidity of
the ancient wall forming the back of the central build-
ing on the Intermontium, and regarded as one of the
few remains of Republican constructions. On e«ther
hand, at another angle from the arch, the ancient road
forming the double ascent of the Clivus is seen, firm
and level, with its great blocks of pavement. The arch
of Septimius Severus is particularly rich in color; and
the poorly executed bas-reliefs of military groups still
look out in the grotesque completeness of attitude and
II.— 6*

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130 The Arches and Columns. [Rome,

Italy, i860, expression, even on the sides exposed to the weather.
From the Clivus a passage, underneath the present
road, leads into the Forum, whose immense pinkish
granite columns lie on the weather-worn white marble
pavement. The column of Phocas, with its base no
longer " buried," stands at the extreme corner nearest
the Clivus; and the three elegant columns of the tem-
ple (say some) of Jupiter Stator, mark the opposite ex-
tremity; between lie traces, utterly confused to all but
erudite eyes, of marble steps and of pedestals stripped
of their marble.

Let me see what I most delighted in, in Rome. Cer-
tainly this drive from the Clivus to the Coliseum was,
from first to last, one of the chief things; but there are
many objects and many impressions of various kinds
which I can reckon up as of almost equal interest :
the Coliseum itself, with the view from it; the drive
along the Appian Way to the tomb of Cecilia Metella,
and the view from thence of the Campagna bridged by
the aqueduct; the baths of Titus, with the remnants
of their arabesques, seen by the light of torches, in the
now damp and gloomy spaces; the glimpse of the Tac-
peian rock, with its growth of cactus and rough herb-
age ; the grand, bare arch brickwork of the Palace of
the Caesars rising in huge masses on the Palatine; the
theatre of Marcellus bursting suddenly into view from
among the crowded mean houses of the modern city,
and still more the Temple of Minerva and Temple of
Nerva, also set in the crowded city of the present; and
the exterior of the Pantheon, if it were not marred by
the Papal belfries — these are the traces of ancient
Rome that have left the strongest image of themselves
in my mind. I ought not to leave out Trajan's column,
and the forum in which it stands; though the severe

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i860.] The Batlis and Coliseum, 131

cold tint of the gray granite columns, or fragments of Italy, 1860.
columns, gave this forum rather a dreary effect to me.
For vastness there is perhaps nothing more impressive
in Rome than the Baths of Caracalla, except the Coli-
seum; and I remember that it was among them that I
first noticed the lovely effect of the giant fennel, luxuri-
ant among the crumbling brickwork.

Among the ancient sculptures I think I must place
on a level the Apollo, the Dying Gladiator, and the
Lateran Antinous: they affected me equally in differ-
ent ways. After these I delighted in the Venus of the
Capitol, and the Kissing Children in the same room;
the Sophocles at the Lateran Museum; the Nile; the
black, laughing Centaur at the Capitol; the Laughing
Faun in the Vatican; and the Sauroktonos, or Boy
with the Lizard, and the sitting statue called Menan*
der. The Faun of Praxiteles, and the old Faun with
the infant Bacchus, I had already seen at Munich, else
I should have mentioned them among my first favor-
ites. Perhaps the greatest treat we had at the Vatican
was the sight of a few statues, including the Apollo, by
torchlight — all the more impressive because it was our
first sight of the Vatican. Even the mere hurr}nng
along the vast halls, with the fitful torchlight falling on
the innumerable statues and busts and bas-reliefs and
sarcophagi, would have left a sense of awe at these
crowded, silent forms which have the solemnity of sud-
denly arrested life. Wonderfully grand these halls of
the Vatican are; and there is but one complaint to be
made against the home provided for this richest col-
lection of antiquities — it is that there is no historical
arrangement of them, and no catalogue. The system of
classification is based on the history of their collection
by the different popes, so that for every other purpose

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132 St, Peters. [Rome,

Italy, i860, but that of securing to each pope his share of glory, it
is a system of helter-skelter.

Of Christian Rome, St. Peter's is, of course, the su-
preme wonder. The piazza, with Bernini's colonnades,
and the gradual slope upward to the mighty temple,
gave me always a sense of having entered some mil-
lennial new Jerusalem, where all small and shabby
.things were unknown. But the exterior of the cathe-
dral itself is even ugly; it causes a constant irritation
by its partial concealment of the dome. The first im-
pression from the interior was, perhaps, at a higher
pitch than any subsequent impression, either of its
beauty or vastness; but then, on later visits, the lovely
marble, which has a tone at once subdued and warm,
was half-covered with hideous red drapery. There is
hardly any detail one cares to dwell on in St. Peter's.
It is interesting, for once, to look at the mosaic altar-
pieces, some of which render with marvellous success
such famous pictures as the Transfiguration, the Com-
munion of St. Jerome, and the Entombment or Disen-
tombment of St. Petronilla. And some of the monu-
ments are worth looking at more than once, the chief
glory of that kind being Canova's Lions. I was pleased
one day to watch a group of poor people looking with an
admiration that had a half-childish terror in it at the sleep-
ing lion, and witl^ a sort of daring air thrusting their
fingers against the teeth of the waking "mane-bearer."

We ascended the dome near the end of our stay,
but the cloudy horizon was not friendly to our distant
view, and Rome itself is ugly to a bird's-eye contem-
plation. The chief interest of the ascent was the
.vivid realization it gave of the building's enormous
size, and after that the sight of the inner courts and
garden of the Vatican,

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i860.] Mediaval Churches. 133

Our most beautiful view of Rome and the Campagna iwiyi «»».
was one we had much earlier in our stay, before the
snow had vanished from the mountains; it was from
the terrace of the Villa Pamfili Doria.

Of smaller churches I remember especially Santa
Maria degli Angeli, a church formed by Michael An-
gelo by additions to the grand hall in the Baths of
Diocletian — the only remaining hall of ancient Rome;
and the Church of San Clemente, where there is a
chapel painted by Masaccio, as well as a perfect speci-
men of the ancient enclosure near the tribune, called
the presbytery, with the ambones or pulpits from which
the lessons and gospel were read. Santa Maria Mag-
giore is an exquisitely beautiful basilica, rich in marbles
from a pagan temple; and the reconstructed San Paolo
fuori le Mura is a wonder of wealth and beauty, with
its lines of white-marble columns — if one could pos-
sibly look with pleasure at such a perverted appliance
of money and labor as a church built in an unhealthy
solitude. After St. Peter's, however, the next great
monument of Christian art is the Sistine Chapel; but
since I care for the chapel solely for the sake of its
ceiling, I ought rather to number it among my favorite
paintings than among the most memorable buildings.
Certainly this ceiling of Michael Angelo*s is the most
wonderful fresco in the world. After it come Ra-
phael's School of Athens and Triumph of Galatea, so
far as Rome is concerned. Among oil-paintings there
I like best the Madonna di Foligno, for the sake of the
cherub who is standing and looking upward; the Peru-
gino also, in the Vatican, and the pretty Sassoferrato,
with the clouds budding angels; at the Barberini
Palace, Beatrice Cenci, and Una Schiava, by Titian;
at the Sciarra Palace, the Joueurs de Violon, by Ra-

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134 Illumination of St. Peter s. [Rome,

Italy, i86a. phacl, another of Titian's golden-haired women, and a
sweet Madonna and Child with a bird, by Fra Bartolo-
meoj at the Borghese Palace, Domenichino's Chase, the
Entombment, by Raphael, and the Three Ages — a copy
of Titian, by Sassoferrato.

We should have regretted entirely our efforts to get
to Rome during the Holy Week, instead of making
Florence our first resting-place, if we had not had the
compensation for wearisome, empty ceremonies and
closed museums in the wonderful spectacle of the il-
lumination of St Peter's. That, really, is a thing so
wondrous, so magically beautiful, that one can't find in -
one's heart to say it is not worth doing. I remember
well the first glimpse we had as we drove out towards
it, of the outline of the dome like a new constellation on
the black sky. I thought that was the final illumina-
tion, and was regretting our tardy arrival, from the
dktour we had to make, when, as our carriage stopped
in front of the cathedral, the great bell sounded, and
in an instant the grand illumination flashed out and
turned the outline of stars into a palace of gold. Venus
looked out palely.

One of the finest positions in Rome is the Monte
Cavallo (the Quirinal), the site of the pope's palace,
and of the fountain against which are placed the two
Colossi — the Castor and Pollux, ascribed, after a lax
method of affiliation, to Phidias and Praxiteles. Stand-
ing near this fountain one has a real sense of being on
a hill; city and distant ridge stretching below. Close
by is the Palazzo Rospigliosi, where we went to see
Guido's Aurora.

Another spot where I was struck with the view of
modern Rome (and that happened rarely) was at San
Pietro in Vincoli, on the Esquiline, where we went to

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i86o.] San Pietro in Vincoli. 135

see Michael Angelo's Moses. Turning round before i«aJyt x86a.
one enters the church, a palm-tree in the high fore-
ground relieves very picturesquely the view of the lower
distance. The Moses did not affect me agreeably;
both the attitude and the expression of the face seemed
to me, in that one visit, to have an exaggeration that
strained after effect without reaching it. The failure
seemed to me of this kind : Moses was an angry man
iry'mg to frighten the people by his mien, instead of
being rapt by his anger, and terrible without self-con-
sciousness. To look at the statue of Christ, after the
other works of Michael Angelo at Rome, was a sur-
prise ; in this the fault seems to incline slightly to the
namby-pamby. The Pietk in St. Peter's has real ten-
derness in it.

The visit to the Farnesina was one of the most in-
teresting among our visits to Roman palaces. It is
here that Raphael painted the Triumph of Galatea,
and here this wonderful fresco is still bright upon the
wall. In the same room is a colossal head, drawn by
Michael Angelo with a bit of charcoal, by way of carte-
de-visite^ one day that he called on Daniele di Volterra,
who was painting detestably in this room, and happened
to be absent. In the entrance-hall,j)receding the Gal-
atea room, are the frescoes by Raphael representing
the story of Cupid and Psyche ; but we did not linger
long to look at them, as they disappointed us.

We visited only four artists' studios in Rome : Gib-
son's, the sculptor ; Frey's, the landscape painter ; Rie-
del's, genre painter, and Overbeck's. Gibson's was
entirely disappointing to me, so far as his own sculpt-
ures are concerned ; except the Cacciatore, which he
sent to the Great Exhibition, I could see nothing but
feeble imitations of the antique — no spontaneity and

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136 Modern Artists. [Rome,

Italy, i86a no vigor. Miss Hosmcr's Beatrice Cenci is a pleasing
and new conception ; and her little Puck a bit of hu-
mor that one would like to have if one were a grand
seigneur.

Frey is a very meritorious landscape painter — fin-
ished in execution and poetic in feeling. His Egyp-
tian scenes — ^the Simoon, the Pair in the Light of Sun-
set, and the Island of Philae — are memorable pictures ;
so is the View of Athens, with its blue, island-studded
sea. Riedel interested us greatly with his account of
the coincidence between the views of light and colors
at which he had arrived through his artistic experience,
and Goethe's theory of colors, with which he became
acquainted only after he had thought of putting his
own ideas into shape for publication. He says the
majority of painters continue their work when the sun
shines from the north — they paint with blue light.

But it was our visit to Overbeck that we were most
pleased not to have missed. The man himself is more
interesting than his pictures : a benevolent calm and
quiet conviction breathes from his person and man-
ners. He has a thin, rather high-nosed face, with long
gray hair, set off by a maroon velvet cap, and a gray
scarf over his shoulders. Some of his cartoons pleased
me : one large one of our Saviour passing from the
midst of the throng who were going to cast him from
the brow of the hill at Capernaum — one foot resting on
a cloud borne up by cherubs ; and some smaller round
cartoons representing the Parable of the Ten Virgins,
and applying it to the function of the artist.

We drove about a great deal in Rome, but were
rather afflicted in our drives by the unending walls that
enclose everything like a garden, even outside the city
gates. First among our charming drives was that to

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i860.] Pamfili Daria Gardens, 137

the Villa Pamfili Doria — a place which has the beau- ^^1* «86o.
ties of an English park and gardens, with views such
as no English park can show ; not to speak of ^the co-
lumbarium or ancient Roman burying-place, which has
been disinterred in the grounds. The compactest of
all burying -places must these columbaria be: little
pigeon-holes, tier above tier, for the small urns con-
taining the ashes of the dead. In this one traces of
peacocks and other figures in fresco, ornamenting the
divisions between the rows, are still visible. We sat
down in the sunshine by the side of the water, which is
made to fall in a cascade in the grounds fronting the
house, and then spreads out into a considerable breadth
of mirror for the plantation on the slope which runs
along one side of it. On the opposite side is a broad,
grassy walk, and here we sat on some blocks of stone,
watching the little green lizards. Then we walked on
up the slope on the other side, and through a grove of
weird ilexes, and across a plantation of tall pines, where
we saw the mountains in the far distance. . A beautiful
spot I We ought to have gone there again.

Another drive was to the Villa Albani, where, again,
the view is grand. The precious sculptures once there
are all at Munich now ; and the most remarkable rem-
nants of the collection are the bas-relief of Antinous,
and the ^sop. The Antinous is the least beautiful
of all the representations of that sad loveliness that I
have seen — be it said in spite of Winckelmann ; atti-
tude and face are strongly Egyptian. In an outside
pavilion in the garden were some interesting examples
of Greek masks.

Our journey to Frascati by railway was fortunate.
The day was fine, except, indeed, for the half-hour that
we were on the heights of Tusculum, and longed for a

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138 Frascatu-r^Tivolu [Rome,

Italy, i860, clear horizon. But the weather was so generally gloomy
during our stay in Rome that we were "thankful for
small mercies" in the way of sunshine. I enjoyed
greatly our excursion up the hill on donkey-back to the
ruins of Tusculum — in spite of our loquacious guide,
who exasperated George. The sight of the Campagna
on one side, and of Mount Algidus, with its snow-
capped fellows, and Mount Albano, with Rocca di Papa
on its side, and Castel Gandolfo below on the other
side, was worth the trouble — to say nothing of the little
theatre, which was the most perfect example of an an-
cient theatre I had then seen in that pre-Pompeian
period of my travels. After lunching at Frascati we
strolled out to the Villa Aldobrandini, and enjoyed a
brighter view of the Campagna in the afternoon sun-
light. Then we lingered in a little croft enclosed by
plantations, and enjoyed this familiar- looking bit of
grass with wild-flowers perhaps more, even, than the
greatest novelties. There are fine plantations on the
hill behind the villa, and there we wandered till it was
time to go back' to the railway. A literally grotesque
thing in these plantations is the opening of a grotto in
the hillside, cut in the form of a huge Greek comic
mask. It was a lovely walk from the town downward
to the railway station — between the olive-clad slopes
looking towards the illimitable plain. Our best view
of the aqueducts was on this journey, but it was the
tantalizing sort of view one gets from a railway car-
riage.

Our excursion to Tivoli, reserved till nearly the end
of our stay, happened on one of those cruel, seductive
days that smile upon you at five o'clock in the morn-
ing, to become cold and cloudy at eight, and resolutely
rainy at ten. And so we ascended the hill through the

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i860.] Pictures at the Capitol. 139

vast, venerable olive grove, thinking what would be the itaJji «86o^
effect of sunshine among those gray, fantastically twisted
trunks and boughs ; and paddled along the wet streets
under umbrellas to look at the Temple of the Sibyl, and
to descend the ravine of the waterfalls. Yet it was en-
joyable ; for the rain was not dense enough to shroud
the near view of rock and foliage. We looked for the
first time at a rock of Travertine, with its curious petri-
fied vegetable forms, and lower down at a mighty cav-
ern, under which the smaller cascade rushes — ^an awful
hollow in the midst of huge, rocky masses. But — rain,
rain, rain ! No possibility of seeing the Villa of Ha-
drian, chief wonder of Tivoli : and so we had our
carriage covered up and turned homeward in de-
spair.

The last week of our stay we went for the first time
to the picture-gallery of the Capitol, where we saw
the famous Guercino — the Entombment of Petronilla —
which we had already seen in mosaic at St. Peter's. It
is a stupendous piece of painting, about which one's
only feeling is that it might as well have been left un-
done. More interesting is the portrait of Michael An-
gelo, by himself — a deeply melancholy face. And there
is also a picture of a bishop, by Giovanni Bellini, which
arrested us a long while. After these, I remember
most distinctly Veronese's Europa, superior to that we
afterwards saw at Venice; a delicious mythological,
Poussin, all light and joy ; and a Sebastian, by Guido,
exceptionally beautiful among the many detestable
things of his in this gallery.

The Lateran Museum, also, was a sight we had neg-
lected till this last week, though it turned out to be
one of the most memorable. In the classical museum
are the great Antinous, a Bacchus, and the Sophocles ;

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140 The Lateran Museum. [Rome,

Italy, j86o. besidcs a number of other remains of high interest, es-
pecially in the department of architectural decoration.
In the museum of Christian antiquities there are, be-
sides sculptures, copies of the frescoes in the Catacombs
— invaluable as a record of those perishable remains.
If we ever go to Rome again the Lateran Museum will
be one of the first places I shall wish to revisit.

We saw the Catacombs of St. Calixtus, on the Ap-
pian Way — the long, dark passages, with great oblong
hollows in the rock for the bodies long since crumbled,
and the one or two openings out of the passages into
a rather wider space, called chapels, but no indications
of paintings or other detail — our monkish guide being
an old man, who spoke with an indistinct grunt that
would not have enlightened us if we had asked any
questions. In the church through which we entered
there is a strangely barbarous reclining statue of St.
Sebastian, with arrows sticking all over it.

A spot that touched me deeply was Shelley's grave.
The English cemetery in which he lies is the most at-
tractive burying-place I have seen. It lies against the
old city walls, close to the Porta San Paolo and the
pyramid of Caius Cestius — one of the quietest spots
of old Rome. And there, under the shadow of the old
walls on one side, and cypresses on the other, lies the
Cor cordium^ forever at rest from the unloving cavillers
of this world, whether or not he may have entered on
other purifying struggles in some world unseen by us.
The grave of Keats lies far off from Shelley's, unshad-
ed by wall or trees. It is painful to look upon, be-
cause of the inscription on the stone, which seems to
make him still speak in bitterness from his grave.*

I " Here lies one whose name was writ in water."

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i860.] Preparations for Disappointment. 141
A wet day for the first time since we left Paris 1 Letter to

'' Mrs. Con-

That assists our consciences considerably in urging usK'eje,4th

to write our letters on this fourth day at Rome, for I
will not pretend that writing a letter, even to you, can
be anything more alluring than a duty when there is a
blue sky over the Coliseum and the Arch of Constan-
line, and all the other marvels of this marvellous place.
Since our arrival, in the middle of Sunday, I have been
gradually rising from the depth of disappointment to an
intoxication of delight ; and that makes me wish to do
for you what no one ever did for me — warn you that
you must expect no grand impression on your first en-
trance into Rome, at least, if you enter it from Civita
Vecchia. My heart sank, as it would if you behaved
shabbily to me, when I looked through the windows
of the omnibus as it passed through street after street
of ugly modern Rome, and in that mood the dome of
St. Peter's and the Castle of St. Angelo — the only
gratid objects on our way — could only look disappoint-
ing to me. I believe the impression on entering from
the Naples side is quite different ; there one must get
a glimpse of the broken grandeur and Renaissance
splendor that one associates with the word " Rome."
So keep up your spirits in the omnibus when your turn
comes, and believe that you will mount the Capitol
the next morning, as we did, and look out on the Fo-
rum and the Coliseum, far on to the Alban mountains,
with snowy Apennines behind them, and feel — what I
leave you to imagine, because the rain has left off, and
my husband commands me to put on my bonnet.
(Two hours later.) Can you believe that I have not
had a headache since we set out ? But I would will-
ingly have .endured more than one to be less anxious
than I am about Mr. Lewes's health. Now that we

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142 Removal to Apartments. [Rome,

Letter to are lust come in from our walk to the Pantheon he is

Mrs. Con- ^

greve,4th obliged to He down with terrible oppression of the
head ; and since we have been in Rome he has been
nearly deaf on one side. That is the dark "crow that
flies in heaven's sweetest air" just now; everything
else in our circumstances heri is perfect. We are glad
to have been driven into apartments, instead of re-
maining at the hotel, as we had intended ; for we enjoy
the abundance of room and the quiet that belong to
this mode of life, and we get our cooking and all other
comforts in perfection at little more than a third of the
hotel prices. Most of the visitors to Rome this season
seem to come only for a short stay; and, as apart-
ments can't be taken for less than a month, the hotels
are full and the lodgings are empty. Extremely un-
pleasant for the people who have lodgings to let, but
very convenient for us, since we get excellent rooms
in a good situation for a moderate price. We have a
good little landlady, who can speak nothing but Ital-
ian, so that she serves as 2ipariatrice for us, and awak-
ens our memory of Italian dialogue — a memory which
consists chiefly of recollecting Italian words without
knowing their meaning, and English words without
knowing the Italian for them.

I shall tell you nothing of what we have seen. Have
you not a husband who has seen it all, and can tell
you much better ? Except, perhaps, one sight which
might have had some interest for him, namely. Count
Cavour, who was waiting with other eminences at the
Turin station to receive the Prince de Carignan, the
new Viceroy of Tuscany. A really pleasant sight —
not the prince, who is a large, stout "mustache,"
squeezed in at the waist with a gold belt, looking like
one of Ihose diessed-up personages who are amoing the

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i86a] The French Occupation. 143

chessmen that the Cavours of the world play their If "«'*<>

^ ' Mrs. Con^

game with. The pleasant sight was Count Cavouf, >^y*^f;^i!L
plainest dress, with a head full of power, mingled with
bonhomie. We had several fellow-travellers who be-
longed to Savoy, and were full of chagrin at the pros-
pect of the French annexation. Our most agreeable
companion was a Baron de Magliano, a Neapolitan
who has married a French wife with a large fortune,
and has been living in France for years, but has now
left his wife and children behind for the sake of enter-
ing the Sardinian army, and, if possible, helping to
turn out the Neapolitan Bourbons. I feel some stir-
rings of the insurrectionary spirit myself when I see
the red pantaloons at every turn in the streets of Rome.
I suppose Mrs. Browning could explain to me that this
is part of the great idea nourished in the soul of the
modern saviour, Louis Napoleon, and that for the
French to impose a hateful government on the Ro-
mans is the only proper sequence to the story of the
French Revolution.

Oh, the beautiful men and women and children
here ! Such wonderful babies with wise eyes ! such
grand-featured mothers nursing them ! As one drives
along the streets sometimes, one sees a madonna and
child at every third or fourth upper window ; and on
Monday a little crippled girl, seated at the door of a
church, looked up at us with a face full of such pathetic
sweetness and beauty that I think it can hardly leave
me again. Yesterday we went to see dear Shelley's
tomb, and it was like a personal consolation to me to
see that simple outward sign that he is at rest, where
no hatred can ever reach him again. Poor Keats's
tombstone, with that despairing, bitter inscription, is
almost as painful to think of as Swift's.

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144 The Popes Blessing. [Naples,

JjJJJc^J^ And what have you been doing, being, or suffering
p-eve. 4^ in these long twelve days ? While we were standing
with weary impatience in the custom-house at Civita
Vecchia, Mr. Congreve was delivering his third lecture,
and you were listening. And what else? Friday, —
Since I wrote my letter we have not been able to get
near the post-office. Yesterday was taken up with
seeing ceremonies, or, rather, with waiting for them.
I knelt down to receive the pope's blessing, remem-
bering what Pius VII. said to the soldier — that he
would never be the worse for the blessing of an old
man. But, altogether, these ceremonies are a melan-
choly, hollow business, and we regret bitterly that the
Holy Week has taken up our time from better things.
I have a cold and headache this morning, and in other
ways am not conscious of improvement from the pope's
blessing. I may comfort myself with thinking that the
King of Sardinia is none the worse for the pope's
curse. It is farcical enough that the excommunication
is posted up at the Church of St. John Lateran, out of
everybody's way, and yet there are police to guard it.
July, i860. How much more I have to write about Rome!
How I should like to linger over every particular ob-
ject that has left an image in my memory ! But here
I am only to give a hasty sketch of what we saw and
did at each place at which we paused in our three
months' life in Italy.

It was on the 29th of April that we left Rome, and
on the morning of the 30th we arrived at Naples — un-
der a rainy sky, alas ! but not so rainy as to prevent
our feeling the beauty of the city and bay, and declar-
ing it to surpass all places we had seen before. The
weather cleared up soon after our arrival at the Hotel
des Etrangers, and after a few days it became brilliant.

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i860.] First Impressions of Naples. 145

showing us the blue sea, the purple mountains, and itaJy» »86o.
bright city, in which we had almost disbelieved as we
saw them in the pictures. Hardly anything can be
more lovely than Naples seen from Posilippo under a
blue sky: the irregular outline with which the town
meets the sea, jutting out in picturesque masses, then
lifted up high on a basis of rock, with the grand Castle
of St. Elmo and the monastery on the central height
crowning all the rest; the graceful outline of purple
Vesuvius risiijg beyond the Molo, and the line of
deeply indented mountains carrying the eye along to
the Cape of Sorrento ; and, last of all, Capri sleeping
"between sea and sky in the distance. Crossing the
promontory of Posilippo, another wonderful scene pre-
sents itself: white Nisida on its island rock ; the sweep
of bay towards Pozzuoli ; beyond that, in fainter col-
ors of farther distance, the Cape of Miseno and the
peaks of Ischia.

Our first expedition was to Pozzuoli and Miseno, on
a bright, warm day, with a slipshod Neapolitan driver,
whom I christened Baboon, and who acted as our
charioteer throughout our stay at Naples. Beyond
picturesque Pozzuoli, jutting out with precipitous piles
of building into the sea, lies Baiae. Here we halted to
look at a great circular temple, where there was a won-
derful echo that made whispers circulate and become
loud on the opposite side to that on which they were
uttered. Here, for our amusement, a young maiden
and a little old man danced to the sound of a tam-
bourine and fife. On our way to Baiae we had stopped
to see the Lake Avernus, no longer terrible to behold,
and the amphitheatre of Cumae, how grown over with
greensward, and fringed with garden stuff.

From Baia* we went to Miseno — the MiBenum where
n.-7 ^

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146 Miseno. — Pozzuoli, — Capo di Monte. [Naples;

Italy, i86a Pliny was Stationed with the fleet — and looked out
from the promontory on the lovely isles of Ischia and
Procida. On the approach to this promontory lies the
Piscina Mirabilis, one of the most striking remains of
Roman building. It is a great reservoir, into which
one may now descend dryshod and look up at the lofty
arches festooned with delicate plants, while the sun-
light shoots aslant through the openings above. It
was on this drive, coming back towards Pozzuoli, that
we saw the Mesembryanthemum in its greatest luxuri-
ance — a star of amethyst with its golden tassel in the
centre. The amphitheatre at Pozzuoli is the most in-
teresting in Italy after the Coliseum. The seats are
in excellent preservation, and the subterranean struct-
ures for water and for the introduction of wild beasts
are unique. The temple of Jupiter Serapis is another
remarkable ruin, made more peculiar by the intrusion
of the water, which makes the central structure, with
its great columns, an island to be approached by a
plank bridge.

In the views from Capo' di Monte — the king's sum-
mer residence — and from St. Elmo one enjoys not
only the view towards the sea, but the wide, green plain
sprinkled with houses and studded with small towns
or villages, bounded on the one hand by Vesuvius, and
shut in, in every other direction, by the nearer heights
close upon Naples, or by the sublimer heights of the
distant Apennines. We had the view from St. Elmo
on a clear, breezy afternoon, in company with a French-
man and his wife, come from Rome with his family
after a two years' residence there — worth remembering
for the pretty bondage the brusque, stern, thin father
was under to the tiny, sickly looking boy.

It was a grand drive up to Capo di Monte — between

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i860.] Poggio Reale. — Cemetery, 147

rich plantations, with glimpses, as we went up, of the itaiyi «Wo.
city lying in picturesque irregularity below ; and as we
went down, in the other direction, views of distant
mountain rising above some pretty accident of roof or
groups of trees in the foreground.

One day we went, from this drive, along the Poggio
Reale to the cemetery — the most ambitious burying-
place I ever saw, with building after building of elabo-
rate architecture, serving as tombs to various Arci-con-
fratemitd as well as to private families, all set in the
midst of well-kept gardens. The humblest kind of
tombs there were long niches for coffins, in a wall bor-
dering the carriage -road, which are simply built up
when the coffin is once in — the inscription being added
on this final bit of masonry. The lines of lofty sepul-
chres suggested to one very vividly the probable ap-
pearance of the Appian Way when the old Roman
tombs were in all their glory.

Our first visit to the Museo Borbonico was devoted
to the sculpture, of which there is a precious collec-
tion. Of the famous Balbi family, found at Hercula-
neum, the mother, in grand drapery, wound round her
head and body, is the most unforgetable — a really
grand woman of fifty, with firm mouth and knitted
brow, yet not unbenignant. Farther on in this trans-
verse hall is a Young Faun with the Infant Bacchus —
a different conception altogether from the fine Munich
statue, but delicious for humor and geniality. Then
there is the Aristides — more real and speaking and
easy in attitude even than the Sophocles at Rome.
Opposite is a lovely Antinous, in no mythological char-
acter, but in simple, melancholy beauty. In the centre
of the deep recess, in front of which these statues are
placed, is the colossal Flora, who holds up her thin

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148 Mtiseo Borbonico. [Naples,

Italy, i86a dress in too finicking a style for a colossal goddess ;
and on the floor — to be seen by ascending a platform
— is the precious, great mosaic representing the Battle
of the Issus, found at Pompeii. It is full of spirit, the
ordonnance of the figures is very much after the same
style as in the ancient bas-reliefs, and the colors are
still vivid enough for us to haye a just idea of the ef-
fect. In the halls on each side of this central one
there are various Bacchuses and Apollos, Atlas groan-
ing under the weight of the Globe, the Farnese Her-
cules, the Toro Farnese, and, among other things less
memorable, a glorious Head of Jupiter.

The bronzes here are even more interesting than
the marbles. Among them there is Mercury Resting,
the Sleeping Faun, the little Dancing Faun, and the
Drunken Faun snapping his fingers, of which there is
a marble copy at Munich, with the two remarkable
Heads of Plato and Seneca.

But our greatest treat at the Museo Borbonico could
only be enjoyed after our visit to Pompeii, where we
went, unhappily, in the company of some Russians
whose acquaintance G. had made at the table d^hbte,
I hope I shall never forget the solemnity of our first
entrance into that silent city, and the walk along the
street of tombs. After seeing the principal houses we
went, as a proper climax, to the Forum, where, among
the lines of pedestals and the ruins of temples and
tribunal, we could see Vesuvius overlooking us ; then
to the two theatres, and finally to the amphitheatre.

This visit prepared us to enjoy the collection oipic-
coli bronziy of paintings and mosaics at the Museo.
Several of the paintings have considerable positive
merit. I remember particularly a large one of Orestes
and Pylades, which in composition and general con-

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i860.] Pompeii. 149

ception might have been a picture of yesterday. But ^^y* »86o.
the most impressive collection of remains found at
Pompeii and Herculaneum is that of the ornaments,
articles of food and domestic utensils, pieces of bread,
loaves with the bakers' names on them, fruits, corn,
various seeds, paste in the vessel, imperfectly mixed,
linen just wrung in washing, eggs, oil consolidated in a
glass bottle, wine mixed with the lava, and a piece of
asbestos ; gold lace, a lens, a lantern with sides of talc,
gold ornaments of Etruscan character, patty-pans (!),
moulds for cakes; ingenious portable cooking appa-
ratus, urn for hot water, portable candelabrum, to be
raised or lowered at will, bells, dice, theatre - checks,
and endless objects that tell of our close kinship with
those old Pompeians. In one of the rooms of this
collection there are the Farnese cameos and engraved
gems, some of them — especially of the latter — ^marvel-
lously beautiful, complicated, and exquisitely minute
in workmanship. I remember particularly one splen-
did yellow stone engraved with an elaborate composi-
tion of Apollo and his chariot and horses — a master-
piece of delicate form.

We left Rome a week ago, almost longing, at last, Jfj^^J.^^.
to come southward in search of sunshine. Every oneg|ve,^5^
likes to boast of peculiar experience, and we can boast
of having gone to Rome in the very worst spring that
has been known for the last twenty years. Here, at
Naples, we have had some brilliant days, though the
wind is still cold, and rain has often fallen heavily in
the night. It is the very best change for us after
Rome ; there is comparatively little art to see, and
there is nature in transcendent beauty. We both think
it the most beautiful place in the world, and are scep-
tical about Constantinople, which has not had the ad-

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ISO Beauty of Naples. [Naples,

Mii^Cb ^^'^^^S^ ^^ having been seen by us. That is the fash-
geve,5th ion of travellers, as you know : for you must have been
bored many times in your life by people who have in-
sisted on it that you must go and see the thing they
have seen — there is nothing like it. We shall bore
you in that way, I dare say — so prepare yourself. Our
plan at present is to spend the next week in seeing
Faestum, Amalfi, Castellamare, and Sorrento, and drink-
ing in as much of this Southern beauty, in a quiet way,
as our souls are capable of absorbing.

The calm blue sea, and the mountains sleeping in
the afternoon light, as we have seen them to-day from
the height of St. Elmo, make one feel very passive and
contemplative, and disinclined to bustle about in search
of meaner sights. Yet I confess Pompeii, and the re-
mains of Pompeian art and life in the Museum, have
been impressive enough to rival the sea and sky. It
is a thing never to be forgotten — that walk through the
silent city of the past, and then the sight of utensils
and eatables and ornaments and half- washed linen
and hundreds of other traces of life so startlingly like
our own in its minutest details, suddenly arrested by
the fiery deluge. All that you will see some day, and
with the advantage of younger eyes than mine.

We expect to reach Florence (by steamboat, alas !)
on the 17th, so that if you have the charity to write to
me again, address to me there.

We thought the advance to eighteen in the number
of hearers was very satisfactory, and rejoiced over it.
The most solid comfort one can fall back upon is the
thought that the business of one's life — the work at
home after the holiday is done — is to help in some
small, nibbling way to reduce the sum of ignorance,
degradation, and misery on the face of this beautiful

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i860.] Giotto's Frescoes. 151

earth. I am writing at night — Mr. Lewes is already Ji*"®J,'°
asleep, else he would say, " Send my kind regards to geve, 5th
them all." We have often talked of you, and the
thought of seeing you again makes the South Fields
look brighter in our imagination than they could have
looked from the dreariest part of the world if you had
not been living in them.

The pictures at Naples are worth little : the Mar- Italy, i86a
riage of St. Catherine, a small picture by Correggio; a
Holy Family, by Raphael, with a singularly fine St.
Ann, and Titian's Paul the Third, are the only paint-
ings I have registered very distinctly in all the large
collection. The much-praised frescoes of the dome in
a chapel of the cathedral, and the oil-paintings over the
altars, by Domenichino and Spagnoletto, produced no
effect on me. Worth more than all these are Giotto's
frescoes in the choir of the little old Church of ITn-
coronata, though these are not, I think, in Giotto's ripest
manner, for they are inferior to his frescoes in the Santa
Croce at Florence — more uniform in the type of face.

We went to a Sunday-morning service at the cathe-
dral, and saw a detachment of silver busts of saints
ranged around the tribune, Naples being famous for
gold and silver sanctities.

When we had been a week at Naples we set off in
our carriage with Baboon on an expedition to Paestum,
arriving the first evening at Salerno — beautiful Salerno,
with a bay as lovely, though in a different way, as the
bay of Naples. It has a larger sweep ; grander piles
of rocky mountain on the north and northeast ; then
a stretch of low plain, the mountains receding ; and,
finally, on the south, another line of mountain coast
extending to the promontory of Sicosa.

From Salerno we started early in the morning for

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152 Salerno and Pasium. [PiEsxuM,

Italy, i86a Paestuii), With DO alloy to the pleasure of the journey
but the dust, which was capable of making a simoon
under a high wind. For a long way we passed through
a well-cultivated plain, the mountains on our left and
the sea on our right ; but farther on came a swampy^
unenclosed space of great extent, inhabited by buffa-
loes, who lay in groups, comfortably wallowing in the
muddy water, with their grand, stupid heads protruding
horizontally.

On approaching Paestum, the first thing one catches
sight of is the Temple of Vesta, which is not beautiful
either for form or color, so that we began to tremble
lest disappointment were to be the harvest of our dusty
journey. But the fear was soon displaced by almost
rapturous admiration at the sight of the great Temple
of Neptune — the finest thing, I verily believe, that we
had yet seen in Italy. It has all the requisites to make
a building impressive : First, y^r/w. What perfect sat-
isfaction and repose for the eye in the calm repetition
of those columns ; in the proportions of height and
length, of front and sides ; the right thing \s found-— \t
is not being sought after in uneasy labor of detail or
exaggeration. Next, color. It is built of Travertine,
like the other two temples ; but while they have re-
mained, for the most part, a cold gray, this Temple of
Neptune has a rich, warm, pinkish brown, that seems
to glow and deepen under one's eyes. Lastly, position.
It stands on the rich plain, covered with long grass
and flowers, in sight of the sea on one hand, and the
sublime blue mountains on the other. Many plants
caress the ruins ; the acanthus is there, and I saw it
in green life for the first time; but the majority of the
plants on the floor, or bossing the architrave, are famil-
iar to me as home flowers — purple mallows, snapdrag-

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i860.] Amalfi and Sorrento, 153

ons, pink hawksweed, etc. On our way back we saw ita^y* >86a
a herd of buffaloes clustered near a pond, and one of
them was rolling himself in the water like a gentleman
enjoying his bath.

The next day we went in the morning from Salerno
to Amalfi. It is an unspeakably grand drive round
the mighty rocks with the sea below ; and Amalfi itself
surpasses all imagination of a romantic site for a city
that once made itself famous in the world. We stu-
pidly neglected seeing the cathedral, but we saw a
macaroni-mill and a paper-mill from among the many
that are turned by the rushing stream, which, with its
precipitous course down the ravine, creates an immense
water-power ; and we climbed up endless steps to the
Capuchin Monastery, to see nothing but a cavern where
there are barbarous images and a small cloister with
double Gothic arches.

Our way back to La Cava gave us a repetition of
the grand drive we had had in the morning by the
coast, and beyond that an inland drive of much love-
liness, through Claude-like scenes of mountain, trees,
and meadows, with picturesque accidents of building,
such as single round towers, on the heights. The val-
ley beyond La Cava, in which our hotel lay, is of quite
paradisaic beauty ; a rich, cultivated spot, with moun-
tains behind and before— -those in front varied by an-
cient buildings that a painter would have chosen to
place there ; and one of pyramidal shape, steep as an
obelisk, is crowned by a monastery, famous for its
library of precious MSS. and its archives. We arrived
too late for everything except to see the shroud of mist
gather and gradually envelop the mountains.

In the morning we set ofij again in brightest weath-
er, to Sorrento, coasting the opposite side of the prom-
II. — 7*

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154 ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ Siren Isles, [Naples,

Italy, i860, ontory to that which we had passed along the day be-
fore, and having on our right hand Naples and the
distant Posilippo. The coast on this side is less grand
than on the Amalfi side, but it is more friendly as a
place for residence. The most charming spot on the
way to Sorrento, to my thinking, is Vico, which I should
even prefer to Sorrento, because there is no town to
be traversed before entering the ravine and climbing
the mountain in the background. But I will not un-
dervalue Sorrento, with its orange-groves embalming
the air, its glorious sunsets over the sea, setting the
gray olives aglow on the hills above us, its walks among
the groves and vineyards out to the solitary coast. One
day of our stay there we took donkeys and crossed the
mountains to the opposite side of the promontory, and
saw the Siren Isles — very palpable, unmysterious bits
of barren rock now. A great delight to me, in all the
excursions round about Naples, was the high cultiva-
tion of the soil and the sight of the vines, trained from
elm to elm, above some other precious crop carpeting
the ground below. On our way back to Naples we
visited the silent Pompeii again. That place had such
a peculiar influence over me that I could not even look
towards the point where it lay on the plain below Ve-
suvius without a certain thrill.

Amid much dust we arrived at Naples again on
Sunday morning, to start by the steamboat for Leg-
horn on the following Tuesday. . But before I quit
Naples I must remember the Grotto of Posilippo, a
wonderful monument of ancient labor ; Virgil's tomb,
which repaid us for a steep ascent only by the view of
the city and bay; and a villa on the way to Posilippo,
with gardens gradually descending to the margin of
the sea, where there is a collection of animals, both

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i86a] First Sight of Florence, 155

stuffed and alive. It was there we saw the flying-fish, Italy, i860,
with their lovely blue fins.

One day and night voyage to Civita Vecchia, and
another day and night to Leghorn — wearisome to the
flesh that suflers from nausea even on the summer sea !
AVe had another look at dear Pisa under the blue sky,
and then on to Florence, which, unlike Rome, looks
inviting as one catches sight from the railway of its
cupolas and towers and its embosoming hills — the
greenest of hills, sprinkled everywhere with white vil-
las. We took up our quarters at the Pension Suisse,
and on the first evening we took the most agreeable
drive to be had round Florence — the drive to Fiesole.
It is in this view that the eye takes in the greatest extent
of green, billowy hills, besprinkled with white houses*,
looking almost like flocks of sheep ; the great, silent,
uninhabited mountains lie chiefly behind ; the plain
of the Arno stretches far to the right. I think the
view from Fiesole the most beautiful of all ; but that
from San Miniato, where we went the next evening,
has an interest of another kind, because here Florence
lies much nearer below, and one can distinguish the
various buildings more completely. It is the same
with Bellosguardo, in a still more marked degree.
What a relief to the eye and the thought, among the
huddled roofs of a distant town, to see towers and cu-
polas rising in abundant variety, as they do at Flor-
ence ! There is Brunelleschi's mighty dome, and close
by it, with its lovely colors not entirely absorbed by
distance, Giotto's incomparable Campanile, beautiful
as a jewel. Farther on, to the right, is the majestic
tower of the Palazzo Vecchio, with the flag waving
above it; then the elegant Badia and the Bargello
close by; nearer to us the grand Campanile of Santo

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1 56 The Duomo and Campanile. [Florence,

Italy, i860. Spirito and that of Santa Croce ; far away, on the left,
the cupola of San Lorenzo and the tower of Santa Ma-
ria Novella ; and, scattered far and near, other cupo-
las and campaniles of more insignificant shape and
history.

Even apart from its venerable historical glory, the
exterior of the Duomo is pleasant to behold when the
wretched, unfinishedyafd5//<? is quite hidden. The soar-
ing pinnacles over the doors are exquisite ; so are the
forms of the windows in the great semicircle of the
apsis; and on the side where Giotto's Campanile is
placed, especially, the white marble has taken on so
rich and deep a yellow that the black bands cease to
be felt as a fault. The entire view on this side, closed
in by Giotto's tower, with its delicate pinkish marble,
its delicate Gothic windows with twisted columns, and
its tall lightness carrying the eye upward, in contrast
with the mighty breadth of the dome, is a thing not
easily to be forgotten. The Baptistery, with its para-
disaic gates, is close by ; but, except in those gates, it
has no exterior beauty. The interior is almost awful,
with its great dome covered with gigantic early mosa-
ics — the pale, large-eyed Christ surrounded by images
of paradise and perdition. The interior of the cathe-
dral is comparatively poor and bare ; but it has one
great beauty — its colored lanceolate windows. Be-
hind the high - altar is a piece of sculpture — the last
under Michael Angelo's hand, intended for his own
tomb, and left unfinished. It represents Joseph of
Arimathea holding the body of Jesus, with Mary, his
mother, on one side, and an apparently angelic form
on the other. Joseph is a striking and real figure,
with a hood over the head.

For external architecture it is the palaces, the old

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i860.] The Palaces and Libraries, 157

palaces of the fifteenth century, that one must look at Italy. «86a
in the streets of Florence. One of the finest was just
opposite our hotel, the Palazzo Strozzi, built by Cro-
naca ; perfect in its massiveness, with its iron cressets
and rings, as if it had been built only last year. This
is the palace that the Pitti was built to outvie (so tra-
dition falsely pretends), and to have an inner court
that would contain it. A wonderful union is that Pitti
Palace of cyclopean massiveness with stately regular-
ity. Next to the Pitti, I think, comes the Palazzo
Riccardi — the house of the Medici — for size and splen-
dor. Then that unique Laurentian library, designed
by Michael Angelo; the books ranged on desks in
front of seats, so that the appearance of the library
resembles that of a chapel with open pews of dark
wood. The precious books are all chained to the
desk ; and here we saw old manuscripts of exquisite
neatness, culminating in the Virgil of the fourth centu-
ry, and the Pandects, said to have been recovered from
oblivion at Amalfi, but falsely so said, according to
those who are more learned than tradition. Here,
too, is a little chapel covered with remarkable frescoes
by Benozzo Gozzoli.

Grander still, in another style, is the Palazzo Vec-
chio, with its unique cortile^ where the pillars are em-
bossed with arabesque and floral tracery, making a
contrast in elaborate ornament with the large sim-
plicity of the exterior building. Here there are pre-
cious little works in ivory by Benvenuto Cellini, and
other small treasures of art and jewelry, preserved in
cabinets in one of the great upper chambers, which
are painted all over with frescoes, and have curious
inlaid doors showing buildings or figures in wooden
mosaic, such as is often seen in great beauty in the

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158 The Loggia de' Lanzi, [Florence,

Italy, i860, stalls of the churches. The great council - chamber
is ugly in its ornaments — frescoes and statues in bad
taste all round it.

Orcagna's Loggia de' Lanzi is disappointing at the
first glance, from its sombre, dirty color ; but its beauty
grew upon me with longer contemplation. The pillars
and groins are very graceful and chaste in ornamen-
tation. Among the statues that are placed under it
there is not one I could admire, unless it were the
dead body of Ajax with the Greek soldier supporting it.
Cellini's Perseus is fantastic. The Bargello, where we
went to see Giotto's frescoes (in lamentable condition)
was under repair, but I got glimpses of a wonderful
inner court, with heraldic carvings and stone stairs
and gallery.

Most of the churches in Florence are hideous on the
outside — piles of ribbed brickwork awaiting a coat of
stone or stucco — looking like skinned animals. The
most remarkable exception is Santa Maria Novella,
which has an elaborate facing of black and white mar-
ble. Both this church and San Lorenzo were under re-
pair in the interior, unfortunately for us ; but we could
enter Santa Maria so far as to see Orcagna's fres-
coes of Paradise and Hell. The Hell has been re-
painted, but the Paradise has not been maltreated in
this way ; and it is a splendid example of Orcagna's
powers — far superior to his frescoes in the Campo
Santo at Pisa. Some of the female forms on the lowest
range are of exquisite grace. The splendid chapel in
San Lorenzo, containing the tombs of the Medici, is
ugly and heavy, with all its precious marbles; and
the world-famous statues of Michael Angelo on the
tombs in another smaller chapel — the Notte, the Gi-
orno, and the Crepuscolo — remained to us as afFect-

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i86o.i Santa Croce and the Carmine. 159

ed and exaggerated in the original as in copies and Italy. >86o.
casts.

The two churches we frequented most in Florence
were Santa Croce and the Carmine. In this last are
the great frescoes of Masaccio — chief among them the
Raising of the Dead Youth. In the other are Giotto's
frescoes revealed from under the whitewash by which
they were long covered, like those in the Bargello. Of
these the best are the Challenge to Pass through the
Fire, in the series representing the history of St. Fran-
cis, and the rising of some saint (unknown to me) from
his tomb, while Christ extends his arms to receive
him above, and wondering venerators look on, on each
side. There are large frescoes here of Taddeo Gaddi's
also, but they are not good ; one sees in him a pupil
of Giotto, and nothing more. Besides the frescoes,
Santa Croce has its tombs to attract a repeated visit ;
the tombs of Michael Angelo, Dante, Alfieri, and Ma-
chiavelli. Even those tombs of the unknown dead
under our feet, with their effigies quite worn down to a
mere outline, were not without their interest I used
to feel my heart swell a little at the sight of the inscrip-
tion on Dante's tomb — "Onorate T altissimo poeta."

In the Church of the Trinitk also there are valuable
frescoes by the excellent Domenico Ghirlandajo, the
master of Michael Angelo. They represent the history
of St. Francis, and happily the best of them is in the
best light ; it is the death of St. Francis, and is full of
natural feeling, with well-marked gradations from deep-
est sorrow to indifferent spectatorship.

The frescoes I cared for most in all Florence were
the few of Fra Angelico's that a donna was allowed to
see, in the Convent of San Marco, In the chapter-
house, now used as a guard-room, is a large Crucifixion,

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i6o 5. Maria Novella. — San Michele, [Florence,

Italy, i86a with the inimitable group of the fainting mother, up-
held by St. John and the younger Mary, and clasped
round by the kneeling Magdalene. The group of ador^
ing, sorrowing saints on the right hand are admirable
for earnest truthfulness of representation. The Christ
in this fresco is not good, but there is a deeply impres-
sive original crucified Christ outside in the cloisters;
St. Dominic is clasping the cross and looking upward
at the agonized Saviour, whose real, pale, calmly en-
during face is quite unlike any other Christ I have
seen.

I forgot to mention, at Santa Maria Novella, the
chapel which is painted with very remarkable frescoes
by Simone Memmi and Taddeo Gaddi. The best of
these frescoes is the one in which the Dominicans are
represented by black and white dogs — Domini Canes,
The human groups have high merit for conception
and lifelikeness; and they are admirable studies of cos-
tume. At this church, too, in the sacristy, is the Ma-
donna della Stella,* with an altar-step by Fra Angelico
— specimens of his minuter painting in oil. The inner
part of the frame is surrounded with his lovely angels,
with their seraphic joy and flower-garden coloring.

Last of all the churches we visited San Michele,
which had been one of the most familiar to us on the
outside, with its statues in niches, and its elaborate
Gothic windows, designed by the genius of Orcagna.
The great wonder of the interior is the shrine of white
marble made to receive the miracle-working image
which first caused the consecration of this mundane
building, originally a corn-market. Surely this shrine
is the most wonderful of all Orcagna's productions ;

' Now in cell No. 33 in the Museo di San Marco.

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i860.] The Uffizi Gallery. l6i

for the beauty of the reliefs he deserves to be placed Italy, i86a
along with Nicolo Pisano, and for the exquisite Gothic
design of the whole he is a compeer of Giotto.

For variety of treasures the Uffizi Gallery is pre-
eminent among all public sights in Florence; but the
variety is in some degree a cause of comparative unim-
pressiveness, pictures and statues being crowded to-
gether and destroying each other's effect. In statuary
it has the great Niobe group ; the Venus de Medici ;
the Wrestlers ; the admirable statue of the Knife-
Sharpener, supposed to represent the flayer of Marsyas ;
the Apollino; and the Boy taking a Thorn out of his
Foot ; with numerous less remarkable antiques. And
besides these it has what the Vatican has not — a
collection of early Italian sculpture, supreme among
which is Giovanni di Bologna's Mercury.* Then there
is a collection of precious drawings ; and there is the
cabinet of gems, quite alone in its fantastic, elaborate
minuteness of workmanship in rarest materials ; and
there is another cabinet containing ivory sculptures,
cameos, intaglios, and a superlatively fine Niello, as
well as Raffaelle porcelain. The pictures here are
multitudinous, and among them there is a generous
proportion of utterly bad ones. In the entrance gallery,
where the early paintings are, is a great Fra Angelico
— a Madonna and Child — a triptych, the two side
compartments containing very fine figures of saints,
and the inner part of the central frame a series of un-
speakably lovely angels.^ Here I always paused with
longing, trying to believe that a copyist there could
make an imitation angel good enough to be worth

* Now in the Museo Nazionale.

• Now in Sala Lorenzo Monaco, Uffizi.

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1 62 Uffizi Pictures. [Florence,

Italy. i86a buying. Among the other paintings that remain with
me, after my visit to the Uffizi, are the portrait of
Leonardo da*Vinci, by himself; the portrait of Dante,
by Filippino Lippi;* the Herodias of Luini; Titian's
Venus, in the Tribune ; Raphael's Madonna and Child
with the Bird ; and the portrait falsely called the For-
narina ; the two remarkable pictures by Ridolfo Ghir-
landajo; and the Salutation, by Albertinelli, which
hangs opposite ; the little prince in pink dress, with two
recent teeth, in the next room, by Angelo Bronzino (No.
1 155); the small picture of Christ in the Garden, by
Lorenzo Credi ; Titian's Woman with the Golden Hair,
in the Venetian room ; Leonardo's Medusa head ; and
Michael Angelo's ugly Holy Family — these, at least,
rise up on a rapid retrospect. Others are in the back-
ground; for example, Correggio's Madonna adoring
the Infant Christ, in the Tribune.

For pictures, however, the Pitti Palace surpasses the
Uffizi. Here the paintings are more choice and not
less numerous. The Madonna della Sedia leaves me,
with all its beauty, impressed only by the grave gaze
of the Infant ; but besides this there is another Ma-
donna of Raphael— perhaps the most beautiful of all
his earlier ones — the Madonna del Gran Duca, which
has the sweet grace and gentleness of its sisters with-
out their sheeplike look. Andrea del Sarto is seen
here in his highest glory of oil-painting. There are
numerous large pictures of his — Assumptions and the
like — of great technical merit ; but better than all these
I remember a Holy Family, with a very fine St. Ann,

* The only portraits of Dante in the Uffizi are No. 1207 in the
room opening out of the Tribune, by an unknown painter (Scuola
Toscana) ; and No. 553, in the passage to the Pitti — also by an
unknown painter.

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i860.] Pitii Pictures. 163

and the portraits of himself and his fatal, auburn-haired Italy, i860,
wife. Of Fra Bartolomeo there is a Piet2t of memo-
rable expression/ a Madonna enthroned with* saints,
and his great St. Mark. Of Titian, a Marriage of St.
Catherine, of supreme beauty ; a Magdalen, failing in
expression ; and an exquisite portrait of the same wom-
an, who is represented as Venus at the Uffizi. There
is a remarkable group of portraits by Rubens — himself,
his brother, Lipsius, and Grotius — and a large land-
scape by him. The only picture of Veronese's that I re-
member here is a portrait of his wife when her beauty
was gone. There is a remarkably fine sea-piece by
Salvator Rosa ; a striking portrait of Aretino, and a
portrait of Vesalius, by Titian ; one of Inghirami, by
Raphael ; a delicious, rosy baby — future cardinal — ly-
ing in a silken bed ; ' a placid, contemplative young
woman, with her finger between the leaves of a book,
by Leonardo da Vinci ; ^ a memorable portrait of Philip
II., by Titian ; a splendid Judith, by Bronzino ; a por-
trait of Rembrandt, by himself, etc., etc.

Andrea del Sarto is seen to advantage at the Pitti
Palace; but his chef-d^oiuvre is a fresco, unhappily
much worn — the Madonna del Sacco — in the cloister
of the Annunziata.

For early Florentine paintings the most interesting
collection is that of the Accademia. Here we saw a
Cimabue, which gave us the best idea of his superior-
ity over the painters who went before him : it is a co-
lossal Madonna enthroned. And on the same wall
there is a colossal Madonna by Giotto, which is not
only a demonstration that he surpassed his master,.

'No. 81. Pitti Gallery. «No.49,by TiberioTitti. Pitti Gallery.
. 'No. 140. Pitti Gallery.

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164 Galileos Tower, [Florence,

Italy, i860, but that he had a clear vision of the noble in art. A
delightful picture — very much restored, I fear — of the
Adoration of the Magi made me acquainted with Gen-
tile da Fabriano. The head of Joseph in this picture
is masterly in the delicate rendering of the expres-
sion ; the three kings are very beautiful in concep-
tion ; and the attendant group, or rather crowd, shows
a remarkable combination of realism with love of the
. beautiful and splendid.

There is a fine Domenico Ghirlandajo — the Adora-
tion of the Shepherds ; a fine Lippo Lippi ; and an
Assumption, by Perugino, which I like well for its
cherubs and angels, and for some of the adoring fig-
ures below. In the smaller room there is a lovely
Pietk by Fra Angelico ; and there is a portrait of Fra
Angelico himself by another artist.

One of our drives at Florence, which I have not
mentioned, was that to Galileo's Tower, which stands
conspicuous on one of the hills close about the town.
AVe ascended it for the sake of looking out over the
plain from the same spot as the great man looked
from, more than two centuries ago. His portrait is in
the Pitti Palace — a grave man with an abbreviated
nose, not unlike Mr. Thomas Adolphus Trollope.

One fine day near the end of our stay we made an
expedition to Siena— that fine old town built on an ab-
rupt height overlooking a wide, wide plain. We drove
about a couple of hours or more, and saw well the ex-
terior of the place — the peculiar piazza or campo in
the shape of a scallop-shell, with its large old Palazzo
publico^ the Porta Ovile and Porta Romana, the arch-
bishop's palace, and the cemetery. Of the churches
we saw only the cathedral, the Chapel of St. John the
Baptist, and San Domenico. The cathedral has a

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i860.] Expedition to Siena.' 165

highly elaborate Gothic fa9ade, but the details of the Italy, x86a
upper part are unsatisfactory — a square window in the
centre shocks the eye, and the gables are not slim
and aspiring enough. The interior is full of interest :
there is the unique pavement in a sort of marble
Niello, presenting Raffaellesque designs by Boccafumi,
carrying out the example of the older portions, which
are very quaint in their drawing ; there is a picture of
high interest in the history of early art — a picture by
Guido of Siena, who was rather earlier than Cimabue ;
fine carved stalls and screens in dark wood; and in
an adjoining chapel a series of frescoes by Pinturic-
chio, to which Raphael is said to have contributed de-
signs and workmanship, and wonderfully illuminated
old choir-books. The Chapel of St. John the Baptist
has a remarkable Gothic fagade, and a baptismal font
inside, with reliefs wrought by Ghiberti and another
Florentine artist. To San Domenico we went for the
sake of seeing the famous Madonna by Guido da
Siena; I think we held it superior to any Cimabue
we had seen. There is a considerable collection of
the Siennese artists at the Accademia, but the school
had no great genius equal to Giotto to lead it. The
Three Graces — an antique to which Canova's modern
triad bears a strong resemblance in attitude and style
— are also at the Accademia.

An interesting visit we made at Florence was to
Michael Angelo*s house — Casa Buonarotti — in the Via
Ghibellina. This street is striking and characteristic :
the houses are all old, with broad eaves, and in some
cases with an open upper story, so that the roof
forms a sort of pavilion supported on pillars. This
is a feature one sees in many parts of Florence.
Michael Angelo*s house is preserved with great care

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1 66 Michael Angela's House. [Florence,

Italy, i860, by his descendants — only one could wish their care
had not been shown in giving it entirely new furni-
ture. However, the rooms are the same as those he
occupied, and there are many relics of his presence
there — his stick, his sword, and many of his drawings.
In one room there is a very fine Titian of small size —
the principal figure a woman fainting.

The Last Supper — a fresco believed to be by Ra-
phael — is in a room at the Egyptian Museum.* The
figure of Peter — of which, apparently, there exists vari-
ous sketches by Raphael's hand — is memorable.
Letter Things really look so threatening in the Neapolitan

w^' 8th ^^"S^o°* ^^^ "^^ begin to think ourselves fortunate in
May, i860, having got our visit done. Tuscany is in the highest
political spirits for the moment, and of course Victor
Emanuel stares at us at every turn here, with the most
loyal exaggeration of mustache and intelligent mean-
ing. But we are selfishly careless about dynasties just
now, caring more for the doings of Giotto and Brunel-
leschi than for those of Count Cavour. On a first
journey to the greatest centres of art one must be
excused for letting one's public spirit go to sleep a
little. As for me, I am thrown into a state of humili-
. ating passivity by the sight of the great things done in
the far past — it seems as if life were not long enough
to learn, and as if my own activity were so completely
dwarfed by comparison that I should never have cour-
age for more creation of my own. There is only one
thing that has an opposite and stimulating effect : it is
the comparative rarity, even here, of great and truth-
ful art, and the abundance of wretched imitation and
falsity. Every hand is wanted in the world that can
do a little genuine, sincere work.

' No. 56 Via de Faenza, Capella di Foligno.

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i86o.] ''Times'' on ''Mill on the Floss'' 167
We are at the quietest hotel in Florence, having Letter

^ ' *» to John

sought It out for the sake of gettuig clear of t^c®!^'«,,
stream of English and Americans, in which one finds May/1860.
one's self in all the main tracks of travel, so that one
seems at last to be in a perpetual, noisy picnic, obliged
to be civil, though with a strong inclination to be sul-
len. My philanthropy rises several degrees as soon
as we are alone.

I am much obliged to you for writing at once, and ^"^^^^^
so scattering some clouds which had gathered over ^JjJ'^ ^
my mind in consequence of an indication or two in M*y» *^^
Mr. John Blackwood's previous letter. The Times
article arrived on Sunday. It is written in a generous
spirit, and with so high a degree of intelligence that I
am rather alarmed lest the misapprehensions it exhib-
its should be due to my defective presentation, rather
than to any failure on the part of the critic. I have
certainly fulfilled my intention very badly if I have
made the Dodson honesty appear "mean and unin-
teresting," or made the payment of one's debts appear
a contemptible virtue in comparison with any sort of
" Bohemian " qualities. So far as my own feeling and
intention are concerned, no one class of persons or
form of character is held up to reprobation or to ex-
clusive admiration. Tom is painted with as much
love and pity as Maggie; and I am so far from hating
the Dodsons myself that I am rather aghast to find
them ticketed with such very ugly adjectives. We in-
tend to leave this place on Friday (3d), and in four
days after that we shall be at Venice, in a few days
from that time at Milan, and then, by a route at pres-
ent uncertain, at Berne, where we take up Mr. Lewes's
eldest boy, to bring him home with us.

We are particularly happy in our weather, which is

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1 68 First Mention of Italian NoveL [Bologna,

Letter unvaryingly fine without excessive heat. There has
Black- been a crescendo of enjoyment in our travels; for Flor-
May,i863. cncc, from its relation to the history of modern art,
has roused a keener interest in us even than Rome,
and has stimulated me to entertain rather an ambi-
tious project, which I mean to be a secret from every
one but you and Mr. John Blackwood.

Any news of " Clerical Scenes " in its third edition ?
Or has its appearance been deferred? The smallest
details are acceptable to ignorant travellers. We are
wondering what was the last good article in Black-
wood^ and whether Thackeray has gathered up his
slack reins in the CornhilL Literature travels slowly
even to this Italian Athens. Hawthorne's book is not
to be found here yet in the Tauchnitz edition.
Italy, i86a We left Florence on the evening of the ist of June,
by diligence, travelling all night and until eleven the
next morning to get to Bologna. I wish we could
have made that journey across the Apennines by day-
light, though in that case I should have missed certain
grand, startling effects that came to me in my occa-
sional wakings. Wonderful heights and depths I saw
on each side of us by the fading light of the evening.
Then, in the middle of the night, while the lightning
was flashing and tfie sky was heavy with threatening
storm-clouds, I waked to find the six horses resolutely
refusing or unable to move the diligence — till, at last,
two meek oxen were tied to the axle, and their added
strength dragged us up the hill. But one of the stran-
gest effects I ever saw was just before dawn, when we
seemed to be high up on mighty mountains, which fell
precipitously, and showed us the awful, pale horizon
far, far below.
The first thing we did at Bologna was to go to the

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i86a] Pictures and Churches. * 169

Accademia, where I confirmed myself in my utter dis- Italy, i86a
like of the Bolognese school — the Caraccis and Do-
menichino et id genus omne — ^and felt some disappoint-
ment in Raphael's St. Cecilia. The pictures of Fran-
cia here, to which I had looked forward as likely to
give me a fuller and higher idea of him, were less
pleasing to me than the smaller specimens of him that
I had seen in the Dresden and other galleries. He
seems to me to be more limited even than Perugino ;
but he is a faithful, painstaking painter, with a relig-
ious spirit. Agostino Caracci's Communion of St.
Jerome is a remarkable picture, with real feeling in it
— an exception among all the great pieces of canvas
that hang beside it. Domenichino's figure of St. Je-
rome is a direct plagiarism from that of Agostino ; but
in other points the two pictures are quite diverse.

The following morning we took a carriage and were
diligent in visiting the churches. San Petronio has
the melancholy distinction of an exquisite Gothic fa-
9ade, which is carried up only a little way above the
arches of the doorways; the sculptures on these arches
are of wonderful beauty. The interior is of lofty, airy,
simple Gothic, and it contains some curious old paint-
ings in the various side-chapels — pre-eminent among
which are the great frescoes by the so-called Buffal-
macco. The Paradise is distinguished in my memory
by the fact that the blessed are ranged in seats like*
the benches of a church or chapel. At Santa Cecilia
— now used as a barrack or guard-room — there are two
frescoes by Francia, the Marriage and Burial of St.
Cecilia, characteristic, but miserably injured. At the
great Church of San Domenico the object of chief in-
terest is the tomb of the said saint, by the ever- to-be-
honored Nicolo Pisano. I believe this tomb was his

11.-8

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I70 Sights of Bologna. [Padua,

Italy, i86a first great work, and very remarkable it is; but there
is nothing on it equal to the Nativity on the pulpit at
Pisa. On this tomb stands a lovely angel, by Michael
Angelo. It is small in size, holding a small candle-
stick, and is a work of his youth; it shows clearly
enough how the feeling for grace and beauty were
strong in him, only not strong enough to wrestle with
his love of the grandiose and powerful.

The ugly, painful leaning towers of Bologna made
me desire not to look at them a second time; but there
are fine bits of massive palatial building here and there
in the colonnaded streets. We trod the court of the
once famous university, where the arms of the various
scholars ornament the walls above and below an in-
terior gallery. This building is now, as far as I could
understand, a communal school, and the university is
transported to another part of the town.

We left Bologna in the afternoon, rested at Ferrara
for the night, and passed the Euganean Mountains on
our left hand as we approached Padua in the middle
of the next day.

After dinner and rest from our dusty journeying we
took a carriage and went out to see the town, desiring
most of all to see Giotto's Chapel. We paused fitst,
however, at the great Church of San Antonio, which
is remarkable both externally and internally. There
are two side chapels opposite each other, which are
quite unique for contrasted effect. On the one hand
is a chapel of oblong form, covered entirely with white
marble relievi, golden lamps hanging from the roof;
while opposite is a chapel of the same form, covered
with frescoes by Avanzi, the artist who seems to have
been the link of genius between Giotto and Masaccio.
Close by, in a separate building, is the Capella di San

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i860.] The Arena Chapel^ Padua. 171

Giorgio, also covered wilh Avanzi's frescoes; and here Italy, i86»
one may study him more completely, because the light
is belter than in the church. He has quite a Veronese
power of combining his human groups with splendid
architecture.

The Arena Chapel stands apart, and is approached,
at present, through a pretty garden. Here one is un-
interruptedly with Giotto. The whole chapel was de-
signed and p«iinted by himself alone ; and it is said
that, while he was at work on it, Dante lodged with
him at Padua. The nave of the chapel is in tolerably
good preservation, but the apsis has suifered severely
from damp. It is in this apsis that the lovely Ma-
donna, with the Infant at her breast, is painted in a
niche, now quite hidden by some altar-piece or wood-
work, which one has to push by in order to see the ten-
derest bit of Giotto's painting. This chapel must have
been a blessed vision when it was fresh from Giotto's
hand — the blue, vaulted roof; the exquisite bands of
which he was so fond, representing inlaid marble, unit-
ing roof and walls, and forming tlie divisions between
the various frescoes which cover the upper part of the
wall. The glory of Paradise at one end, and the his-
tories of Mary and Jesus on the two sides; and the
subdued e^ectof the series of monochromes represent-
ing the Virtues and Vices below.

There is a piazza with a plantation and circular
public walk, with wildly affected statues of small and
great notorieties, which remains with one as a pecu-
liarity of Padua; in general the town is merely old and
shabbily Italian, without anything very specific in its
aspect.

From Padua to Venice !

It was about ten o'clock on a moonlight night — the

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1/2 The Grand Canal by Moonlight. [Venice,

Italy, i860. 4th of June — that we found ourselves apparently on a
railway in the midst of the sea; we were on the bridge
across the Lagoon. Soon we were in a gondola on the
Grand Canal, looking out at the moonlit buildings and
water. What stillness ! What beauty! Looking out
from the high window of our hotel on the Grand Canal
I felt that it was a pity to go to bed. Venice was more
beautiful than romances had feigned.

And that was the impression that remained, and
even deepened, during our stay of eight days. That
quiet which seems the deeper because one hears the
delicious dip of the oar (when not disturbed by clamor-
ous church bells) leaves the eye in full liberty and
strength to take in the exhaustless loveliness of color
and form.

We were in our gondola by nine o'clock the next
morning, and, of course, the first point we sought was
the Piazza di San Marco. I am glad to find Ruskin
calling the Palace of the Doges one of the two most
perfect buildings in the world; its only defects, to my
feeling, are the feebleness or triviality of the frieze or
cornice, and the want of length in the Gothic windows
with which the upper wall is pierced. This spot is a
focus of architectural wonders; but the palace is the
crown of them all. The double tier of columns and
arches, with the rich sombreness of their finely out-
lined shadows, contrast satisfactorily with the warmth
and light and more continuous surface of the upper
part. Even landing on the Piazzetta, one has a sense,
not only of being in an entirely novel scene, but one
where the ideas of a foreign race have poured them-
selves in without yet mingling indistinguishably with
the pre-existent Italian life. But this is felt yet more
strongly when one has passed along the Piazzetta and

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.i860.] San Marco and Doges Palace. 173

arrived in front of San Marco, with its low arches and Italy, 186a.
domes and minarets. But perhaps the most striking
point to take one's stand on is just in front of the
white marble guard-house flanking the great tower —
the guard-house with Sansovino's iron gates before it.
On the left is San Marco, with the two square pillars
from St. Jean d'Acre standing as isolated trophies; on
the right the Piazzetta extends between the Doge's
Palace and the Palazzo Reale to the tall columns from
Constantinople; and in front is the elaborate gateway
leading to the white marble Scala di Giganti, in the
courtyard of the Doge's Palace. Passing through this
gateway and up this staircase, we entered the gallery
which surrounds the court on three sides, and looked
down at the fine sculptured vase-like wells below.
Then into the great Sala, surrounded with the portraits
of the doges; the largest oil-painting here— or perhaps
anywhere else — is the Gloria del Paradiso, by Tinto-
retto, now dark and unlovely. But on the ceiling is a
great Paul Veronese — the Apotheosis of Venice —
which looks as fresh as if it were painted yesterday,
and is a miracle of color and composition — a picture
full of glory and joy of an earthly, fleshly kind, but
without any touch of coarseness or vulgarity. Below
the radiant Venice on her clouds is a balcony filled
with upward-looking spectators; and below this gallery
is a group of human figures with horses. Next to this
Apotheosis, I admire another Coronation of Venice on
the ceiling of another Sala, where Venice is sitting en- .
throned above the globe with her lovely face in half
shadow — a creature born with an imperial attitude.
There are other Tintorettos, Veroneses, and Palmas
in the great halls of this palace; but they left me quite
indifferent, and have become vague in my memory.

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174 •Si?^ Marco. [Venice,

Italy, i86a. From the splendors of the palace we crossed the Bridge
. of Sighs to the prisons, and saw the horrible, dark,
damp cells that would make the saddest life in the free
light and air seem bright and desirable.

The interior of St. Mark's is full of interest, but not
of beauty; it is dark and heav}*, and ill-suited to the
Catholic worship, from the massive piers that obstruct
the view everywhere, shut out the sight of ceremony
and procession, as we witnessed at our leisure on the
day of the great procession of Corpus Christi. But
everywhere there are relics of gone-by art to be studied,
from mosaics of the Greeks to mosaics of later artists
than the Zuccati; old marble statues, embrowned like a
meerschaum pipe ; amazing sculptures in wood ; San-
sovino doors, ambitious to rival Ghiberti's; transparent
alabaster columns; an ancient Madonna, hung with
jewels, transported from St. Sophia, in Constantinople;
and everywhere the venerable pavement, once beauti-
ful with its starry patterns in rich marble, now dead-
ened and sunk to unevenness, like the mud floor of a
cabin.

Then outside, on the archway of the principal door,
there are sculptures of a variety that makes one re-
nounce the study of theitf Tin despair at the shortness
of one's time — blended fruits and foliage, and human
groups and animal forms of all kinds. On our first
morning we ascended the great tower, and looked
around on the island city and the distant mountains
and the distant Adriatic. And on the same day we
went to see the Pisani palace — one of the grand old
palac6fe that are going to decay. An Italian artist
who resides in one part of this palace interested us by
his frank manner, and the glimpse we had of his
domesticity with his pretty wife and children. After

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i860.] ''Death of Peter the Martyr y 175

this we saw the Church of San Sebastiaho, where Paul Italy, 186a.
Veronese is buried, with his own paintings around,
mingling their color with the light that falls on his
tombstone. There is one remarkably fine painting of
his here : it represents, I think, some saints going to
martyrdom, but, apart from that explanation, is a com-
position full of vigorous, spirited figures, in which the
central ones are two young men leaving some splendid
dwelling, on the steps of which stands the mother,
pleading and remionstrating — a marvellous figure of
an old woman with a bare neck.

But supreme among the pictures at Venice is the
Death of Peter the Mart5T,' now happily removed from
its original position as an altar-piece, and placed in a
good light in the sacristy of San Giovanni and Paolo
(or San Zani Polo, as the Venetians conveniently ab-
breviate it). In this picture, as in that of the Tribute-
money at Dresden, Titian seems to have surpassed
himself, and to have reached as high a point in expres-
sion as in color. In the same sacristy there was a
Crucifixion, by Tintoretto, and a remarkable Madonna
with Saints, by Giovanni Bellini ; but we were unable
to look long away from^the Titian to these, although
we paid it five visits durite our stay. It is near this
church that the famous equestrian statue stands, by
Verocchio.

Santa Maria della Salute, built as an ex voio by the
Republic on the cessation of the plague, is one of the
most conspicuous churches in Venice, lifting its white
cupolas close on the Grand Canal, where it widens out
towards the Giudecca. ^

Here there are various Tintorettos, but the only one

* Since burned.

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176 Scuola di San Rocco. [Venice,

Italy, i86a which IS not blackened so as to be unintelligible is the
Cena^ which is represented as a bustling supper party,
with attendants and sideboard accessories, in thorough-
ly Dutch fashion ! The great scene of Tintoretto's
greatness is held to be the Scuola di San Rocco, of
which he had the painting entirely to himself, with his
pupils ; and here one must admire the vigor and fresh-
ness of his conceptions, though I saw nothing that de-
lighted me in expression, and much that was prepos-
terous and ugly. The Crucifixion here is certainly a
grand work, to which he seems to have given his best
powers ; and among the smaller designs, in the two
larger halls, there were several of thorough originality
— for example, the Annunciation, where Mary is seated
in a poor house, with a carpenter's shop adjoining; the
Nativity, in the upper story of a stable, of which a sec-
tion is made so as to show the beasts below; and the
Flight into Egypt, with a very charming (European)
landscape. In this same building of San Rocco there
are some exquisite iron gates, a present from Florence,
and some singularly painstaking wood-carving, repre-
senting, in one compartment of wainscot, above the
seats that surrounded the upper hall, a bookcase filled
with old books, an inksta^ and pen set in front of
one shelf i s^y mkprmdre.

But of all Tintoretto's paintings the best preserved,
and perhaps the most complete in execution, is the
Miracle of St. Mark, at the Accademia. We saw it the
oftener because we were attracted to the Accademia
again and again by Titian's Assumption, which we
placed jjext to Peter the Martyr among the pictures at
Venice.

For a thoroughly rapt expression I never saw any-
thing equal to the Virgin in this picture; and the ex-

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i860.] G. Bellini and Palma Vecckio, 177

pression is the more remarkable because it is not zs-^^y*^^^
sisted by the usual devices to express spiritual ecstasy,
such as delicacy of feature and temperament, or pale
meagreness. Then what cherubs and angelic heads
bathed in light I The lower part of the picture has
no interest; the attitudes are theatrical; and the Al-
mighty above is as unbeseeming as painted Almighties
usually are ; but the middle group falls short only of
the Sistine Madonna.

Among the Venetian painters Giovanni Bellini shines
with a mild, serious light that gives one an affectionate
respect towards him. In the Church of the Scalzi
there is an exquisite Madonna by him— probably his
chef-d'ostivre — comparable to Raphael's for sweetness.

And Palmo Vecchio, too, must be held in grateful
reverence for his Santa Barbara, standing In calm,
grand beauty above an altar in the Church of Santa
Maria Formosa. It is an almost unique presentation
of a hero-woman, standing in calm preparation for mar- -
tyrdom, without the slightest air of pietism, yet with
the expression of a mind filled with serious conviction.

We made the journey to Chioggia, but with small
pleasure, on account of my illness, which continued all
day. Otherwise that long floating over the water, with
the forts and mountains looking as if they were sus-
pended in the air, would have been very enjoyable.
Of all dreamy delights that of floating in a gondola
along the canals and out on the Lagoon is surely the
greatest. We were out one night on the Lagoon when
the sun was setting, and the wide waters were flushed
with the reddened light. I should have liked it to
last for hours ; it is the sort of scene in which I could
most readily forget my own existence and feel melted
into the general life.

11.-8* ^ .

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1/8 Venice to Verona. [Vkrona,

Italy, i860. Another charm of evening-time was to walk up and
down the Piazza of San Marco as the stars were bright-
ening and look at the grand, dim buildings, and the
flocks of pigeons flitting about them ; or to walk on to
the Bridge of La Paglia and look along the dark canal
that runs under the Bridge of Sighs — its blackness lit
up by a gaslight here and there, and the plash of the
oar of blackest gondola slowly advancing.

One of our latest visits was to the Palazzo Mam-
frini, where there are still the remains of a magniflcent
collection of pictures — remains still on sale.

The young proprietor was walking about transacting
business in the rooms as we passed through them — a
handsome, refined -looking man. The chief treasure
left — the Entombment, by Titian — is perhaps a supe-
rior duplicate of the one in the Louvre. After this we
went to a private house (once the house of Bianca Ca-
pello) to see a picture which the joint proprietors are
anxious to prove to be a Leonardo da Vinci. It is a
remarkable — an unforgetable — picture. The subject
is the Supper at Emmaus ; and the Christ, with open,
almost tearful eyes, with loving sadness spread over
the regular beauty of his features, is a masterpiece.
This head is not like the Leonardo sketch at Milan ;
and the rest of the picture impressed me strongly with
the idea that it is of German, not Italian, origin. Again,
the head is not like that of Leonardo's Christ in the
National Galler}' — it is far finer, to my thinking.

Farewell, lovely Venice ! and away to Verona, across
the green plains of Lombardy, which can hardly look
tempting to an eye still filled with the dreamy beauty
it has left behind. Yet I liked our short stay at Ve-
rona extremely. The Amphitheatre had the disadvan-
tage of coming after the Coliseum and the Pozzuoli

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i86o.J San Zenone. 179

Amphitheatre, and would bear comparison with neither ; itaiyi «86a
but the Church of San Zenone was equal in interest to
almost any of the churches we had seen in Italy. It
is a beautiful specimen of Lombard architecture, un-
disguised by any modern barbarisms in the interior ;
and on the walls — now that they have been freed from
their coat of whitewash — there. are early frescoes of
high historical value, some of them — apparently of the
Giotto school — showing a rem^arkable striving after
human expression. More than this, there is in one
case an under layer of yet older frescoes, partly laid
bare, and showing the lower part of figures in mummy-
like degradation of drawing ; .while above these are
the upper portion of the later figures in striking juxta-
position with the dead art from which they had sprung
with the vitality of a hidden germ. There is a very
fine crypt to the church, where the fragments of some
ancient sculptures are built in wrong way upwards.

This was the only church we entered at Verona ; for
we contented ourselves with a general view of the
town, driving about to get coups d'osil of the fine old
walls, the river, the bridges, and surrounding hills, and
mounting up to a high terrace for the sake of a bird's-
eye view ; this, with a passing sight of the famous
tombs of the Scaligers, was all gathered in our four or
five hours at Verona.

Heavy rain came on our way to Milan, putting an
end to the brilliant weather we had enjoyed ever since
our arrival at Naples. The line of road lies through
a luxuriant country, and I remember the picturesque
appearance of Bergamo — half of it on the level, half
of it lifted iip on the green hill.

In this second visit of mine to Milan my greatest
pleasures were the Brera Gallery and the Ambrosiah

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i8o The Ambrosian Library. [Milan,

Italy, i860. Library, neither of which I had seen before. The
cathedral no longer satisfied my eye in its exterior;
and though the interior has very grand effects, there
are still disturbing elements.

At the Ambrosian Library we saw MSS. surpassing
in interest any even of those we had seen in the Lau-
rentian Library at Florence — illuminated books, sacred
and secular, a little Koran, rolled up something after
the fashion of a measuring- tape, private letters of
Tasso, Galileo, Lucrezia Borgia, etc., and a book full
of Leonardo da Vinci's engineering designs. Then,
up-stairs, in the picture-gallery, we saw a delicious
Holy Family by Luini, of marvellous perfection in its
execution, the Cartoon for Raphael's School of Athens,
and a precious collection of drawings by Leonardo da
Vinci and Michael Angelo. Among Leonardo's are
amazingly grotesque faces, full of humor; among Mi-
chael Angelo's is the sketch of the unfortunate Biagio,
who figures with ass's ears, in the lower corner of
the Last Judgment.

At the Brera, among a host of pictures to which I
was indifferent, there were several things that de-
lighted me. Some of Luini's frescoes — especially the
burial or transportation of the body of St. Catherine
by angels — some single figures of young cherubs, and
Joseph and Mary going to their Marriage ; the draw-
ing in pastel by Leonardo of the Christ's head, sup-
posed to be a study for the Cena; the Luini Madonna
among trellises — an exquisite oil-painting; Gentile
Bellini's picture of St Mark preaching at Alexandria;
and the Sposalizio by Raphael.

At the Church of San Maurizio Maggiore we saw
Luini's power tested by an abundant opportunity.
The walls are almost covered with frescoes by him ;

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i860.] Bellagio and Splugen Pass. i8i

but the only remarkable felicity he has is his female Italy, iseo.
figures, which are eminently graceful. He has not
power enough for a composition of any high charac-
ter.

We visited, too, the interesting old Church of San
Ambrogio, with its court surrounded by cloisters, its
old sculptured pulpit, chair of St. Ambrose, and illur
jninated choir-books ; and we drove to look at the line
of old Roman columns, which are almost the solitary
remnant .of antiquity left in this ancient city — ancient,
at least, in its name and site.

We left Milan for Como on a fine Sunday morning,
and arrived at beautiful Bellagio by steamer in the
evening. Here we spent a delicious day — going to
the Villa Somma Riva in the morning, and in the
evening to the Serbellone Gardens, from the heights
of which we saw the mountain-peaks reddened with
the last rays of the sun. The next day we reached
lovely Chiavenna, at the foot of the Splugen Pass, and
spent the evening in company with a glorious moun-
tain torrent, mountain peaks, huge bowlders, with rip-
pling miniature torrents and lovely young flowers
among them, and grassy heights with rich Spanish
chestnuts shadowing them. Then, the next morning,
we set off by post and climbed the almost perpendicu-
lar heights of the Pass — chiefly in heavy rain that
would hardly let us discern the patches of snow when
we reached the table-land of the summit About five
o'clock we reached grassy Spliigen and felt that we
had left Italy behind us. Already our driver had been
German for the last long post, and now we had come
to a hotel where host and waiters were German.
Swiss houses of dark wood, outside staircases and
broad eaves, stood on the steep, green, and flowery

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1 82 Over the Via Mala. [IJerne,

Italy, i86a slope that led up to the waterfall ; and the hotel and
other buildings of masonry were thoroughly German
in their aspect. In the evening we enjoyed a walk
between the mountains, whose lower sides down to
the torrent bed were set with tall, dark pines. But
the climax of grand — nay, terrible — scenery came the
next day as we traversed the Via Mala.

After this came open green valleys, dotted with
white churches and homesteads. We were in Switz-
erland, and the mighty wall of the Valtelline Alps shut
us out from Italy on the 21st of June.

letter Your letter to Florence reached me duly, and I feel

to John ^

Black- as if I had been rather unconscionable in asking for

wood, 23d

June, i860, another before our return ; but to us, who have been

Berne. Seeing ucw things every day, a month seems so long a

space of time that we can't help fancying there must

be a great accumulation of news for us at the end

of it.

We had hoped to be at home by the 25th ; but we
were so enchanted with Venice that we were seduced
into staying there a whole week instead of three or
four days, and now we must not rob the boys of their
two days' holiday with us.

We have had a wonderful journey. From Florence
we went to Bologna, Ferrara, and Padua, on our way
to Venice ; and from Venice we have come by Verona,
Milan, and Como, and across the Splugen to Zurich,
where we spent yesterday, chiefly in the company of
Moleschott the physiologist — an interview that has
helped to sharpen Mr. Lewes's appetite for a return
to his microscope and dissecting-table. We ought to
be. forever ashamed of ourselves if we don't work the
better for this great holiday. We both feel immensely
enriched with new ideas and new veins of interest.

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i86o.3 Enriched with New Ideas. ' 183

I don't think I can venture to tell you what '^y^^j^J^
great project is by letter, for I am anxious to keep itBiadt-^ ^
a secret. It will require a great deal of study andJ^^e»i8^
labor, and I am athirst to begin. ^eme.

As for " The Mill," I am in repose about it now I
know it has found its way to the great public. Its
comparative rank can only be decided after some
years have passed, when the judgment upon it is no
longer influenced by the recent enthusiasm about
" Adam," and by the fact that it has the misfortune
to be written by me instead of by Mr. Liggins. I
shall like to see Bulwer*s criticism, if you will be kind
enough to send it me ; but I particularly wish not to
see any of the newspaper articles.

SUMMARY.

MARCH TO JUNE, 1860. — FIRST JOURNEY TO ITALY.

Crossing Mont Cenis by night in diligence— Turin— Sees Count
Cavour — Genoa— Leghorn— Pisa— Civita Vecchia— Disappoint-
ment with first sight of Rome — Better spirits after visit to Capi-
tol — View from Capitol — Points most struck with in Rome —
Sculpture at Capitol — Sculpture at Vatican first seen by torch-
light — St. Peter's — Other churclies — Sistine Chapel — Paintings —
Illumination of St. Peter's — Disappointment with Michael An-
gelo's Moses — Visits to artists' studios — Riedel and Overbeck —
Pamfili Doria Gardens — Frascati — Tivoli — Pictures at Capitol —
Lateran Museum — Shelley's and Keats's graves — Letter to Mrs.
Congreve — Pope's blessing — Easter ceremonies — From Rome to
Naples — Description — Museo Borbonico— Visit to Pompeii — So-
lemnity of street of tombs — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — From Na-
ples to Salerno and Paestum — Temple of Vesta — Temple of
Neptune fulfils expectations — Amalfi — Drive to Sorrento — Back
to Naples — By steamer to Leghorn — To Florence — Views from
Fiesole and Bellosguardo — The Duomo — Baptistery— Palaces —
Churches — Dante's tomb — Frescoes — Pictures at the Uffizi — Pict-
ures at the Pi tti — Pictures at the Accademia — Expedition to

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1 84 Summary of Chapter X. [i86a

Siena — Back to Florence — Michael Ange1o*s house — ^Letter to
Blackwood — Dwarfing effect of the past — Letter to Major Black-
wood on Times* criticism of " The Mill on the Floss," and first
mention of an Italian novel — Leave Florence for Bologna —
Churches and pictures — To Tadua by Ferrara — The Arena
Chapel — Venice by moonlight — Doge's Palace^ St Mark's —
Pictures — Scuola di San Rocco^-Accademia^Gondola to Chiog-
gia^From Venice to Verona — ^Milan^Brera Gallery and Ambro-
sian Library — Disappointment with cathedral — Bellagio— Over
Splugen to Switzerland — Letter to Blackwood — Saw Moleschott
at Zurich^Home by Berne and Geneva.

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CHAPTER XL

July I. — We found ourselves at home again, after joumai,
three months of delightful travel. From Berne we'
brought our eldest boy Charles, to begin a new period
in his life, after four years at HofwyL During our
absence " The Mill on the Floss " came out (April 4),
and achieved a greater success than I had ever hoped
for it. The subscription was 3600 (the number orig-
inally printed was 4000) ; and shortly after its appear-
ance, Mudie having demanded a second thousand,
Blackwood commenced striking off 2000 more, mak-
ing 6000. While we were at Florence I had the news
that these 6000 were all sold, and that 500 more were
being prepared. From all we can gather, the votes
are rather on the side of " The Mill " as a better book
than "Adam."

We reached home by starlight at one o'clock this Letter to

'' ^ Madame

morning; and I write in haste, fear, and trembling Bodichon,
lest you should already be gone to Surrey. You»86o.
know what I should like — that you and your husband
should come to us the first day possible, naming any
hour and conditions. We would arrange meals and
everything else as would best suit you. Of course I
would willingly go to London to see you^ if you could
not come to me. But I fear lest neither plan should
be practicable, and lest this letter should have to be
sent after you. It is from your note only' that I have
learned your loss.* It has made me think of you with

* Death of Madame Bodichon's father.

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1 86 Miss HennelVs New Book. [Wandsworth,

Letter to the scnsc that there is more than ever a common fund
Bodichon, of experience between us. But I will write nothing
«86o. ' more now. I am almost ill with fatigue, and have

only courage \o write at all because of my anxiety not

to miss you.
Affectionate regards from both of us to both of you.
Letter to I oDcned your letters and parcel a little after one

Miss Sara , , f ^ , . ^ ,

Henneii, o clock ou Sunday mornmg, for that was the unseason-
ed July,

i860. able hour of our return from our long, long journey.
Yesterday was almost entirely employed in feeling very
weary indeed, but this morning we are attacking the
heap of small duties that always lie before one after a
long absence.

It is pleasant to see your book* fairly finished after
all delays and anxieties j but I will say nothing to you
about that until I have read it. I shall read it the
first thing before plunging into a course of study
which will take me into a different region of thought.
We have had an unspeakably delightful journey —
one of those journeys that seem to divide one's life in
two, by the new ideas they suggest and the new veins
of interest they open. We went to Geneva, and spent
two days with my old, kind friends, the D'Alberts — a
real pleasure to me, especially as Mr. Lewes was de-
lighted with " Maman," as I used to call Madame
d' Albert. She is as bright and upright as ever \ the
ten years have only whitened her hair — a change which
makes her face all the softer in coloring.

Letter to Wc did not rcach home till past midnight on Sat-

John

Black- urday, when you, I suppose, had already become used
juiy,*i86o. to the comfort of having fairly got through your Lon-
don season. Self-interest, rightly understood of course,

" ** Thoughts in Aid of Faith."

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i86o.] Translation of ''Adam Bcde'' 187

prompts us to a few virtuous actions in the way of let- utter to
ter-writing to let the few people we care to hear from BUck-
know at once of our whereabouts ; and you are one juiy,'i86a
of the first among the few.

At Berne Mr. Lewes supped with Professors Valen-
tin and Schiff, two highly distinguished physiologists,
and I was much delighted to find how much attention
and interest they had given to his views in the " Physi-
ology of Common Life."

A French translation of " Adam Bede," by a Gene-
vese gentleman* well known to me, is now in the press ;
and the same translator has undertaken *'The Mill
on the Floss." He appears to have rendered " Adam "
with the most scrupulous care. I think these are all
the incidents we gathered on our homeward journey
that are likely to interest you.

I have finished my first rather rapid reading of your Letter to
book, and now I thank you for it : not merely for the Henneii,
special gift of the volume and inscription, but for that 186a ^*
of which many others will share the benefit with me —
the " thoughts " themselves.

So far as my reading in English ^ooks of similar
character extends, yours seems to me quite unparal-
leled in the largeness and insight with which it esti-
mates Christianity as an " organized experience " — a
grand advance in the moral development of the race.

I especially delight in the passage, p. 105, begin-
ning, " And how can it be otherwise," and ending with,
" formal rejection of it."' On this and other supreme-

> M. d' Albert.

' "And how can it be otherwise than real to us, this belief that
has nourished the souls of us all, and seems to have moulded act-
ually anew their internal constitution, as well as stored them up
with its infinite variety of external interests and associations !

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1 88 '/thoughts in Aid of Faiths [Wandsworth,

Utter to ly interesting matters of thought — ^perhaps I should
Henneii, rather say of experience — ^your book has shown me
i86a ' . that we are much nearer to each other than I had sup-
posed. At p. 174, again, there is a passage beginning,
" These sentiments," and ending with " heroes,"* which,
for me, expresses the one-half of true human piety.
That thought is one of my favorite altars where I of-

What other than a very real thing has it been in the life of the
world — sprung out of, and again causing to spring forth, such vol-
umes of human emotion — making a current, as it were, of feeling,
that has drawn within its own sphere all the moral vitality of so
many ages ! In all this reality of influence there is indeed the
testimony of Christianity having truly formed an integral portion
of the organic life of humanity. The regarding it as a mere ex-
crescence, the product of morbid, fanatical humors, is a reaction
of judgment, that, it is to be hoped, will soon be seen on all hands
to be in no way implied of necessity in the formal rejection of it."
— Thoughts in Aid of Faiih^ p. 105.

* " These sentiments, which are born within us, slumbering as
it were in our nature, ready to be awakened into action immedi-
ately they are roused by hint of corresponding circumstances, are
drawn out of the whole of previous human existence. They con-
stitute our treasured inheritance out of all the life that has been
lived before us, to which no age, no human being who has trod
the earth and laid himself to rest, with all his mortal burden upon
her maternal bosom, has failed to add his contribution. No gen-
eration has had its engrossing conflict, sorely battling out the
triumphs of mind over material force, and through forms of mon-
strous abortions concurrent with its birth, too hideous for us now
to bear in contemplation, moulding the early intelligence by every
struggle, and winning its gradual powers — no single soul has borne
itself through its personal trial — ^without bequeathing to us of its
fruit. There is not a religious thought that we take to ourselves
for secret comfort in our time of grief, that has not been distilled
out of the multiplicity of the hallowed tears of mankind ; not an
animating idea is there for our fainting courage that has not gath-
ered its inspiration from the bravery of the myriad armies of the
world's heroes." — Thoughts in Aid of Faith ^ p. 174.

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i86o.] Miss HenneWs New Book. 189

tenest go to contemplate, and to seek for invigorating Letter to

motive. Hennell,

7th July,

Of the work as a whole I am quite incompetent to i860,
judge on a single cursory reading. I admire — I re-
spect — the breadth and industry of mind it exhibits ;
and I should be obliged to give it a more thorough
study than I can afford at present before I should feel
warranted to urge, in the light of a criticism, my fail-
ure to perceive the logical consistency of your lan-
guage in some parts with the position you have adopt-
ed in others. In many instances your meaning is
obscure to me, or at least lies wrapped up in more
folds of abstract phraseology than I have the courage
or the industry to open for myself. I think you told
me that some one had found your treatment of great
questions " cold-blooded." I am all the more delight-
ed to find, for my own part, an unusual fulness of
sympathy and heart experience breathing throughout
your book. The ground for that epithet perhaps lay
in a certain professorial tone which could hardly be
avoided, in a work filled with criticism of other peo-
ple's theories, except by the adoption of a simply per-
sonal style of presentation, in which you would have
seemed to be looking up at the oracles, and trying to
reconcile their doctrines for your own behoof, instead
of appearing to be seated in a chair above them. But
you considered your own plan more thoroughly than
any one else can have considered it for you; and I
have no doubt you had good reasons for preferring
the more impersonal style.

Mr. Lewes sends his kind regards, and when Du
Bois Reymond's book on Johannes Miiller, with other
preoccupations of a like thrilling kind, no longer stand
in the way, he will open his copy of the " Thoughts in

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i'90 Sir E. B, Lytton's Criticism [Wandsworth,

Letter to Aid of Faith." He has felt a new interest aroused
Henneii, towards it slnce he has learned something about it
i860. ' from me and the reviewer in the Westminster,

Madame Bodichon, who was here the other day, told

me that Miss Nightingale and Miss Julia Smith had

mentioned their pleasure in your book 3 but you will

hear further news of all that from themselves.

Letter to I retum Sir Edward Lytton's critical letter, which I

John "*

Black- have read with much mterest. On two points I rec-

wood, 9th '^

July, i860, ognize the justice of his criticism. First, that Maggie
is made to appear too passive in the scene of quarrel
in the Red Deeps. If my book were still in MS. I
should — ^now that the defect is suggested to me —alter,
or rather expand, that scene. Secondly, that the trag-
edy is not adequately prepared. This is a defect which
I felt even while writing the third volume, and have
felt ever since the MS. left me. The Epische Breite
into which I was beguiled by love of my subject in the
two first volumes, caused a want of proportionate ful-
ness in the treatment of the third, which I shall al-
ways regret.

The other chief point of criticism — Maggie's posi-
tion towards Stephen — is too vital a part of my whole
conception and purpose for me to be converted to the
condemnation of it. If I am wrong there — ^if I did
not really know what my heroine would feel and do
under the circumstances in which I deliberately placed
her, I ought not to have written this book at all, but
quite a different book, if any. If the ethics of art do
not admit the truthful presentation of a character es-
sentially noble, but liable to great error— error that is
anguish to its own nobleness — ^then, it seems to me,
the ethics of art are too narrow, and must be widened
to correspond with a widening psychology.

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i860.] of " The Mill on the Flossy 191

But it is good for me to know how my tendencies letter to

• ■ John

as a writer clash with the conclusions of a highly ac- Biack-

,.,,...T 1 1. . wood, 9th

complished mmd, that I may be warned into examin- July, i860,
ing well whether my discordance with those conclu-
sions may not arise rather from an idiosyncrasy of
mine than from a conviction which is argumentatively
justifiable.

I hope you will thank Sir Edward on my behalf
for the trouble he has taken to put his criticism into
a form specific enough to be useful. I feel his taking
such trouble to be at once a tribute and a kindness.
If printed criticisms were usually written with only
half the same warrant of knowledge, and with an equal
sincerity of intention, I should read them without fear
of fruitless annoyance.

The little envelope with its address of " Marian " Letter to
was very welcome, and as Mr. Lewes is sending what loth* juSyl'
a Malaproprian friend once called a " missile " to '
Sara, I feel inclined to slip in a word of gratitude —
less for the present than for the past goodness, which
came back to me with keener remembrance than ever
when we were at Genoa and at Como — the places I
first saw with you. How wretched I was then — how
peevish, how utterly morbid ! And how kind and for-
bearing you were under the oppression of my com-
pany. I should like you now and then to feel happy
in the thought that you were always perfectly good to
me. That I was not good to you is my own disagree-
able affair; the bitter taste of that fact is mine, not yours.

Don't you remember Bellagio ? It is hardly altered
much except in the hotels, which the eleven years have
wondrously multiplied and bedizened for the accom-
modation of the English. But if I begin to recall the
things we saw in Italy, I shall write as long a letter

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192 Effect of Reviews. [Wandsworth,

Letter to as Mr. Lcwcs's, which, by-thc-bye, now I have read it,
loth July/ seems to be something of a "missile " in another sense

i86o.

than the Malaproprian. But Sara is one of the few
people to whom candor is acceptable as the highest
tribute. And private criticism has more chance of
being faithful than public. We must have mercy on
critics who are obliged to make a figure in printed
pages. They must by all means say striking things.
Either we should not read printed criticisms at all (/
don't), or we should read them with the constant re-
membrance that they are a fugitive kind of work which,
in the present stage of human nature, can rarely en-
gage a very high grade of conscience or ability. The
fate of a book, which is not entirely ephemeral, is never
decided by journalists or reviewers of any but an ex-
ceptional kind. Tell Sara her damnation — if it ever
comes to pass — ^will be quite independent of Nationals
and Westminsters. Let half a dozen competent peo-
ple read her book, and an opinion of it will spread
quite apart from either praise or blame in reviews and
newspapers.
Letter to Our big boy is a great delight to us, and makes our
Tuesday * homc doubly cheery. It is very sweet as one gets old
July, i860, to have some young life about one. He is quite a
passionate musician, and we play Beethoven duets with
increasing appetite every evening. The opportunity
of hearing some inspiring music is one of the chief
benefits we hope for to counterbalance our loss of the
wide common and the fields.
Letter to We shall certainly read the parts you suggest in the
i860 July/ "Education of the Feelings,"* and I dare say I shall

' " Education of the Feelings." By Charles Bray. Published
1839.

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i860.] Feeling Old for her Years. 193

read a good deal more of it, liking to turn over the Letter to
leaves of a book which I read first in our old drawing- 14th' juiy^'
room at Foleshill, and then lent to my sister, who, with
a little air of maternal experience,*pronounced it " very
sensible."

There is so much that I want to do every day — I
had need cut myself into four women. We have a
great extra interest and occupation just now in our
big boy Charlie, who is looking forward to a Govern-
ment examination, and wants much help and sympa-
thy in music and graver things. I think we are quite
peculiatly blest in the fact that this eldest lad seems
the most entirely lovable human animal of seventeen
and a half that I ever met with or heard of : he has
a sweetness of disposition which is saved from weak-
ness by a remarkable sense of duty.

We are going to let our present house, if possible —
that is, get rid of it altogether on account of its incon-
venient situation — other projects are still in a floating,
unfixed condition. The water did not look quite so
green at Como — perhaps, as your remark suggests,
because there was a less vivid green to be reflected
from my personality as I looked down on it. I am
eleven years nearer to the sere and yellow leaf, and
my feelings are even more autumnal than my years.
I have read no reviews of the " Mill on the Floss "
except that in the Times which Blackwood sent me to
Florence. I abstain not from superciliousness, but on
a calm consideration of the probable proportion of
benefit on the one hand, and waste of thought on the
other. It was certain that in the notices of my first
book, after the removal of my incognito^ there would
be much ex post facto wisdom, which could hardly
profit me since / certainly knew who I was before-

11.-9

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194 Lawrence's Portrait. [Wandsworth,

hand, and knew also that no one else knew who had
not been told.
Letter to We are quite uncertain about our plans at present.
Bray, i8th Our second boy, Thornie, is going to leave Hofwyl,
and to be placed in some more expensive position, in
order to the carrying on of his education in a more
complete way, so that we are thinking of avoiding
for the present any final establishment of ourselves,
which would necessarily be attended with additional
outlay. Besides, these material cares draw rather
too severely on my strength and spirits. But until
Charlie's career has taken shape we frame no definite
projects.
Letter to If Cara valucs the article on Strikes in the West-
Henneii, mifister JReview, she will be interested to know — if she
i860. "*^' has not heard it already — that the writer is blind. I
dined with him the other week, and could hardly keep
the tears back as I sat at table with him. Yet he is
cheerful and animated, accepting with graceful quiet-
ness all the minute attentions to his wants that his
blindness calls forth. His name is Fawcett, and he is
a Fellow of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. I am sitting
for my portrait — for the last time, I hope — to Law-
rence, the artist who drew that chalk-head of Thacke-
ray, which is familiar to you.
Letter to I know you will rejoice with us that Charlie has
Bodichon, wou his placc at the Post-office, having been at the
ACg.Tko. head of the list in the examination. The dear lad is

fairly launched in life now.
Letter to I am thorouerhlv vexed that we didn't go to Law-

Madame , , , «• , .

Bodichon, rence's to-day. We made an effort, but it was rammg
evening, too hard at the only time that would serve us to reach

Aug. i860. , . ^, -^ r . ...

the tram. That comes of our mconvenient situation,
so far off the railway ; and alas ! no one comes to take

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i86o.] " Thoughts in Aid of Faith'- 195

our house off our hands. We may be forced to stay Letter to
here after all. Bodichon,

One of the things I shall count upon, if we are able evenLgf
to get nearer London, is to see more of your schools ^' *
and other good works. That would help me to do
without the fields for many months of the year.

I am very sorry that anything I have written should Letter to
have pained you. That, certainly, is the result I should Henneii.
seek most to avoid in the very slight communication i860,
which we are able to keep up — necessarily under ex-
tremely imperfect acquaintance with each other's pres-
ent self.

My first letter to you about your book, after having
read it through, was as simple and sincere a statement
of the main impressions it had produced on me as I
knew how to write in few words. My second letter,
in which I unhappily used a formula in order to ex-
press to you, in briefest phrase, my difl&culty in dis-
cerning the justice of your analogical argument, as I
understood it, was written from no other impulse than
the desire to show you that I did not neglect your ab-
stract just sent to me. The said formula was entirely
deprived of its application by the statement in your
next letter that you used the word " essence " in an-
other sense than the one hitherto received in philo-
sophical writing, on the question as to the nature of
our knowledge ; and the explanation given of your
meaning in your last letter shows me — unless T am
plunging into further mistake — that you mean nothing
but what I fully believe. My offensive formula was
written under the supposition that your conclusion
meant something which it apparently did not mean.
It is probable enough that I was stupid ; but I should
be distressed to think that the discipline of life had

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196 Enter sotCs^' Man the Reformer y [Wandsworth,

Letter to been of so little use to me as to leave me with a ten-
Miss Sara , , , . , ^ . . .

Henneii, dency to leap at once to the attitude of a critic, m-
1860. * stead of trying first to be a learner from every book
written with sincere labor.

Will you tell Mr. Bray th^t we are quitting our
present house in order to be nearer town for Charlie's
sake, who has an appointment in the Post-office, and
our time will be arduously occupied during the next
few weeks in arrangements to that end, so that our
acceptance of the pleasant proposition to visit Syden-
ham for a while is impossible. We have advertised
for a house near Regent's Park, having just found a
gentleman and lady ready to take our present one off
our hands. They want to come in on quarter-day, so
that we have no time to spare.

I have been reading this morning for my spiritual
good Emerson's "Man the Reformer," which comes
to me with fresh beauty and meaning. My heart goes
out with venerating gratitude to that mild face, which
I dare say is smiling on some one as beneficently as
it one day did on me years and years ago.

Do not write again about opinions on large ques-
tions, dear Sara. The liability to mutual misconcep-
tion which attends such correspondence — especially
in my case, who can only write with brevity and haste
— makes me dread it greatly j and I think there is no
benefit derivable to you to compensate for the pres-
ence of that dread in me. You do not know me well
enough as I am (according to the doctrine of develop-
ment which you have yourself expounded) to have the
materials for interpreting my imperfect expressions. .

I think you would spare yourself some pain if you
would attribute to your friends a larger comprehension
of ideas, and a larger acquaintance with them, than you

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i860.] Conception of ^^Romola!' 197

appear to do. I should imagine that many of them, Letter to

, r , , . , , ' Miss Sara

or at least some of them, share with you, much more Henneii,

^ 1, , ... , , ajthAug.

fully than you seem to suppose, m the interest and hope i860,
you derive from the doctrine of development, with its
geometrical progression towards fuller and fuller being.
Surely it. is a part of human piety we should all culti-
vate, not to form conclusions, on slight and dubious
evidence, as to other people's " tone of mind," or to
regard particular mistakes as a proof of general moral
incapacity to understand us. I suppose such a ten-
dency (to large conclusions about others) is part of the
original sin we are all born with, for I have continu-
ally to c||eck it in myself.

I think I must tell you the secret, though I am dis- Letter
trusting my power to make it grow into a published b^-
fact. When we were in Florence I was rather fired Aug. i860,
with the idea of writing an historical romance — scene,
Florence ; period, the close of the fifteenth century,
which was marked by Savonarola's career and martyr-
dom. Mr. Lewes has encouraged me to persevere in
the project, saying that I should probably do something
in historical romance rather different in character from
what has been done before. But I want first to write
another English story, and the plan I should like to carry
out is this : to publish my next English novel when my
Italian one is advanced enough for us to begin its pub-
lication a few months afterwards in ** Maga." It would
appear without a name in the Magazine, and be sub-
sequently reprinted with the name of George Eliot. I
need not tell you the wherefore of this plan. You
know well enough the received phrases with which a
writer is greeted when he does something else than
what was expected of him. But just now I am quite
without confidence in my future doings, and almost re-

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1 98 Settling in London. [Wandsworth,

L««eT pent of having formed conceptions which will go on lash-
Biack- ing me now until I have at least tried to fulfil them.

wood, 28th **

Aug.i86o. I am going to-day to give my last sittmg to Law-
rence, and we were counting on the Major's coming to
look at the portrait and judge of it. I hope it will be
satisfactory, for I am quite set against going through
the same process a second time.

We are a little distracted just now with the prospect
of removal from our present house, which some oblig-
ing people have at last come to take off our hands.
Ma^me ^X ^"g^^s havc bccu itching to write to you for the
fth^Sept?' ^^^' week or more, but I have waited and waited, hop-
1860. jjjg jQ ijg ^^\q jq lg|| yQy ^YiTii we had decidtd on our

future house. This evening, however, I have been
reading your description of Algiers, and the desire to
thank you for it moves me too strongly to be resisted.
It is admirably written, and makes me see the country.
I am so glad to think of the deep draughts of life you
get from being able to spend half your life in that fresh,
grand scenery. It must make London and English
green fields all the more enjoyable in their turn.

As for us, we are preparing to renounce the delights
of roving, and to settle down quietly, as old folks should
do, for the benefit of the young ones. We have let
our present house.

Is it not cheering to have the sunshine on the corn,
and the prospect that the poor people will not have to
endure the suffering that comes on them ^rom a bad
harvest ? The fields that were so sadly beaten down a
little while ago on the way to town are now standing
in fine yellow shocks.

I wish you could know how much we felt )'our kind-
ness to Charley. He is such a dear good fellow that
nothing is thrown away upon him.

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i86o.l Take Furnished Home. 199

Write me a scrap of news about yourself, and tell me Letter to

* ^ ' Madame

how you and the doctor are enjoying the country. I Bodichon,
shall get a breath of it in that way. I think I love the i860,
fields and shudder at the streets more and more every
month.

Sept 27. — To-day is the third day we have spent in J^^'*
our new home here at 10 Hare wood Square. It is a
furnished house, in which we do not expect to stay
longer than six months at the utmost. Since our re-
turn from Italy I have written a slight tale, " Mr. David
Faux, Confectioner" ("Brother Jacob'*), which G.
thinks worth printing.

The precious check arrived safely to-day. I am Letter
much obliged to you for it, and also for the offer to b^-
hasten further payments. I have no present need of Sept. lUo,
that accommodation, as we have given up the idea of
buying the house which attracted us, dreading a step
that might fetter us to town, or to a more expensive
mode of living than might ultimately be desirable. I
hope Mr. Lewes will bring us back a good report of
Major Blackwood's progress towards re-established
health. In default of a visit from him, it was very
agreeable to have him represented by his son,* who
has the happy talent of making a morning call one of
the easiest, pleasantest things in the world.

I wonder if you know who is the writer of the article
in the North British^ in which I am reviewed along
with Hawthorne. Mr. Lewes brought it for me to read
this morning, and it is so unmixed in its praise that
if I had any friends I should be uneasy lest a friend
should have written it.

Since there is no possibility of my turning in to see Letter to

Mrs. Con-

i ST^ve, 16th

Oct i860.

> Mr. William Blackwood.

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200 Mrs.Cangreve. [lo Harewood Sq..

coiw y°" ^" ^y w^^^> ^s '^ *^® ^^^ days, I cannot feel easy
nm, i6di without Writing to tell you my regret that I missed you
when you came. In changing a clearer sky for a foggy
one we have not changed our habits, and we walk after
lunch, as usual ; but I should like very much to stay
indoors any day with the expectation of seeing you, if
I could know beforehand of your coming. It is rather
sad not to see your face at all from week to week, and
I hope you know that I feel it so. But I am always
afraid of falling into a disagreeable urgency of invita-
tion, since we have nothing to offer beyond the familiar,
well-worn entertainment of our own society. I hope
you and Mr. Congreve are quite well now and free
from cares. Emily, I suppose, is gone with the sun-
shine of her face to Coventry. There is sadly little
' sunshine except that of young faces just now. Still
we are flourishing, in spite of damp and dismalness.
We were glad to hear that the well-written article in
the Westminster on the " Essays and Reviews " was by
your friend Mr. Harrison.' Though I don't quite agree
with his view of the case, I admired the tone and style
of the writing greatly.
mS*c!^ There is no objection to Wednesday but this — ^that
SdT'sto!* ^^ '^ ^"^ ^^y ^^^ hearing a course of lectures, and the
lecture begins at eight. Now, since you can't come
often, we want to keep you as long as we can, and we
have a faint hope that Mr. Congreve might be able to
come from his work and dine with us and take you
home. But if that were impossible, could you not stay
all night ? There is a bed ready for you. Think of
all that, and if you can manage to give us the longer
visit, choose another day when our evening will be un-

» Mr. Frederic Harrison, the now well-known writer, and a mem-
ber of the Positivist body.

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i860. ''Quarterly " on " The Mill:* 201

broken. I will understand by your silence that you letter to

' ■' •' Mrs. Con-

can only come for a shorter time, and that you ^^ide g^ve, 19th

by your plan of coming on Wednesday. I am really

quite hungry for the sight of you.

I agree with you in preferring to put simply " New Letter
Edition;" and I see, too, that the practice of ^^ver-Bkdc-
tising numbers is made vulgar and worthless by the Nov. 1863.
doubtful veracity of some publishers, and the low char-
acter of the books to which they affix this supposed
guarantee of popularity. Magna est Veritas, etc. I
can't tell you how much comfort I feel in having pub-
lishers who believe that.

You have read the hostile article in the Quarterly,
I dare say. I have not seen it ; but Mr. Lewes's re-
port of it made me more cheerful than any review I
have heard of since "The Mill" came out. You re-
member Lord John Russell was once laughed at im-
mensely for saying that he felt confident he was right,
because alLparties found fault with him. I really find
myself taking nearly the same view of my positioi,
with the Freethinkers angry with me on one side and
the writer in the Quarterly on the other — not because
my representations are untruthful, but because they are
impartial — because I don't load my dice so as to make
their side win. The parenthetical hint that the classi-
cal quotations in my books might be " more correctly
printed," is an amusing sample of the grievance that
belongs to review-writing in general, since there hap-
pens to be only one classical quotation in them all —
the Greek one from the Philoctetes in " Amos Barton."
By-the-bye, will you see that the readers have not al-
lowed some error to creep into that solitary bit of ped- better to

/ I understand your paradox of "expecting disap- 1|^^°^-
IT.— 9*

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202 ^^ Expecting Disappointments^ [ioHarewoodSq.,

i^terto pointments," for that is the only form of hope with
Henncii, which I am familiar. I should likfe, for your sake, that

13th Nov. ' ^ '

x86o. you should rather see us in our mtm house than m this ;
for I fear your carrying away a general sense oi yellow
in connection with us — and I am sure that is enough to
set you against the thought of us. There are some
staring yellow curtains which you will hardly help
blending with your impression of our moral sentiments.
In our own drawing-room I mean to have a paradise
of greenness. I have lately re-read your "Thoughts,"
from the beginning of the " Psychical Essence of Chris-
tianity " to the end of the " History of philosophy," and
I feel my original impression confirmed — that the
"Psychical Essence" and "General Review of the
Christian System" are the most valuable portions. I
think you once expressed your regret that I did not
understand the analogy you traced between Feuerbach's
theory and Spencer's. I don't know what gave you
that impression, for / never said so. I see your mean-
ing distinctly in that parallel. If you referred to some-
thing in Mr. Lewes's letter, let me say, once for all, that
you must not impute my opinions to him nor vice versA,
The intense happiness of our union is derived in a high
degree from the perfect freedom with which we each
follow and declare our own impressions. In this re-
spect I know no man so great as he — that difference
of opinion rouses no egoistic irritation in him, and
that he is ready to admit that another argument is the
stronger the moment his intellect recognizes it. I am
glad to see Mr. Bray contributing his quota to the ex-
posure of that odious trickery — spirit-rapping. It was
not headache that I was suffering from when Mr. Bray
called, but extreme languor and unbroken fatigue from
morning to night — a state which is always accompanied

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i860.] Depression of Town Life. 203

in me, psychically, by utter self-distrust and despair of \S^y^
ever being equal to the demands of life. We should Henncii,

^ ^ 13th Nov.

be very pleased to hear some news of Mr. and Mrs. '86a
Call. I feel their removal from town quite a loss to us.

Nov, 28. — Since I last wrote in this Journal I have J^[na^»
suffered much from physical weakness, accompanied
with mental depression. The loss of the country has
seemed very bitter to me, and my want of health and
strength has prevented me from working much — still
worse, has made me despair of ever working well again.
I am getting better now by the help of tonics, and shall
be better still if I could gather more bravery, resigna-
tion, and simplicity of striving. In the meantime my
cup is full of blessings : my home is bright and warm
with love and tenderness, and in more material, vulgar
matters we are very fortunate.

Last Tuesday — the 20th — we had a pleasant even-
ing. Anthony Trollope dined with us, and made me
like him very much by his straightforward, wholesome
Wesen. Afterwards Mr. Helps came in, and the talk
was extremely agreeable. He told me the queen had
been speaking to him in great admiration of my books
— especially " The Mill on the Floss." It is interest-
ing to know that royalty can be touched by that sort
of writing, and I was grateful to Mr. Helps for his wish
to tell me of the sympathy given to me in that quarter.

To-day I have had a letter from M, d' Albert, saying
that at last the French edition of "Adam Bede" is
published. He pleases me very much by saying that
he finds not a sentence that he can retrench in the first
volume of " The Mill."

I am engaged now in writing a story — the idea oi
which came to me after our arrival in this house, and
which has thrust itself between me and the other book

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204 Monday Popular Concerts. [i6 Blandford Sq.,
J£2^ I was meditating It is " Silas Ma'rner, the Weaver of

38th Nov. ° '

»86o. Raveloe." I am still only at about the 62d page, for

I have written slowly and interruptedly.
i^CT to The sight of sunshine usually brings you to my mind,
g«ve.7th because you are my latest association with the country;
but I think ofyou much oftener than I see the sunshine,
for the weather in London has been more uninterrupted-
ly dismal than ever for the last fortnight. Nevertheless
/ am brighter ; and since I believe your goodness will
make that agreeable news to you, I write on purpose to
tell it. Quinine and steel have at last made me brave
and cheerful, and I really don't mind a journey up-stairs.
If you had not repressed our hope of seeing you again
until your sister's return, I should have asked you to
join us for the Exeter Hall performance of the " Mes-
siah " this evening, which I am looking forward to with
delight. The Monday Popular Concerts at St. James's
Hall are our easiest and cheapest pleasures. I go ii>
my bonnet ; we sit in the shilling places in the body of
the hall, and hear to perfection for a shilling ! That
is agreeable when* one hears Beethoven's quartets and
sonatas. Pray bear in mind that these things are to
be had when you are more at liberty.
Jcwnai, De(. 17. — ^We entered to-day our new home — 16
Blandford Square — which we have taken for three
years, hoping by the end of that time to have so far
done our duty by the boys as to be free to live where
we list.
Letter to Yout vision of me as " settled " was painfully in con-
Henneii. trast with the fact. The last virtue human beings will

20th Dec. . **

i86o. attain, I am inclined to think, is scrupulosity in promis-
ing and faithfulness in fulfilment. We are still far off
our last stadium of development, and so it has come
to pass that, though we were in the house on Monday

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i86a] Faith in a New Religious Formula. 205

last, our curtains are not up and our oilcloth is not I^"er to

' ^ Miss Sara

down. Such is life, seen from the furnishing point of ^raneii,
view! I can't tell you how hateful this sort of time-'^^
frittering work is to me,' who every year care less for
houses and detest shops more. To crown my sorrows,
I have lost my pen — my old, favorite pen, with which I
have written for eight years — at least, it is not forth-
coming. We have been reading the proof of Mr.
Spencer's second part, and I am supremely gratified
by it, because he brings his argument to a point which
I did not anticipate from him. It is, as he says, a re-
sult of his riper thought. After all the bustle of Mon-
day I went to hear Sims Reeves sing '* Adelaide " —
that ne plus ultra of passionate song — and I wish you
had been there for one quarter of an hour, that you
might have heard it too.

The bright point in your letter is that you are i^Jf*^'***
a happy state of mind yourself. For the rest, we must f^®?*^®**'
wait, and not be impatient with those who have their '860.
inward trials, though everything outward seems to
smile on them. It seems to those who are differently
placed that the time of freedom from strong ties and
urgent claims must be very precious for the ends of
self-culture and good, helpful work towards the world
at large. But it hardly ever is so. As for the forms
and ceremonies, I feel no regret that any should turn
to them for comfort if they can find comfort in them ;
sympathetically I enjoy them myself. But I have faith
in the working-out of higher possibilities than the
Catholic or any other Church has presented; and
those who have strength to wait and endure are bound
to accept no formula which their whole souls — their in-
tellect as well as their emotions — do not embrace with/
entire reverence. The " highest calling and election "

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2o6 Spencer's New Book, [tt Blandford Sq.,

letter to is to do withoui opium, and live through all our pain

Madame

Bodichon, with couscious, clear-cved endurance.

a6thDec ''

i860. We have no sorrow just now, except my constant m-

I ward " worrit " of unbelief in any future of good work
on my part. Everything I do seems poor and trivial
in the doing ; and when it is quite gone from me, and
seems no longer my own, then I rejoice in it and think
it fine. That is the history of my life.

I have been wanting to go to your school again, to
refresh myself with the young voices there, but I have
not been able to do it. My walks have all been taken
up with shopping errands of late ; but I hope to get
more leisure soon.

We both beg to offer our affectionate remembrances
to the doctor. Get Herbert Spencer's new work — the
two first quarterly parts. It is the best thing he has
done.

jqnrriai, Dec. 3 1. — This year has been marked by many bless-
ings, and, above all, by the comfort we have found in
having Charles with us. Since we set out on our jour-
ney to Italy on 25th March, the time has not been
fruitful in work : distractions about our change of resi-
dence have run away with many days ; and since I
have been in London my state of health has been de-
pressing to all effort.
. , May the next year be more fruitful !

Letter* I am writing a story which came across my other

to John , , f, . •'. . , , , ,

Black, plans by a sudden inspiration. I don t know at pres-
jan. x'86i. eut whether it will resolve itself into a book short
enough for me to complete before Easter, or whether
it will expand beyond that possibility. It seems to me
that nobody will take any interest in it but myself, for
it is extremely unlike the popular stories going ; but
Mr. Lewes declares that I am wrong, and says it is as

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i86i.] ^'Silas Marnery 207

good as anything I have done. It is a story of old- Letter
fashioned village life, which has unfolded itself from Black-

*' wood, X2th

the oierest millet-seed of thought. I think I get slower Jan. 1861.
and more timid in my writing, but perhaps worry about
houses and servants and boys, with want of bodily
strength, may have had something to do with that. I
hope to be quiet now.
Feb, I. — The first month of the New Year has been Journal,

z86x.

passed in much bodily discomfort, making both work
and leisure heavy. I have reached page 209 of my
story, which is to be in one volume, and I want to get
it ready for Easter, but I dare promise myself nothing
with this feeble body.

The other day I had charming letters from M. and
Mme. d'Albert, saying that the French *' Adam " goes
on very well, and showing an appreciation of "The
Mill " which pleases me.

I was feeling so ill on Friday and Saturday that I better to
had not spirit to write and thank you for the basket of grcvc,6th

. , , , -r . , , ^^b. 1861.

eggs — an invaluable present. I was particularly grate-
ful this morning at breakfast, when a fine large one fell
to my share.

On Saturday afternoon we were both so utterly in-
capable that Mr. Lewes insisted on our setting off forth-
with into the country. But we only got as far as Dork-
ing, and came back yesterday. I felt a new creature as
soon as I was in the country ; and we had two brilliant
days for rambling and driving about that lovely Sur-
rey. I suppose we must keep soul and body together
by occasional flights of this sort ; and don't you think
an occasional flight to town will be good for you ?

I have destroyed almost all my friends* letters to me, Letter to

^ ' Miss Sara

because they were only intended for my eyes, and could Henneii,
only fall into the hands of persons who knew little of the i86i.

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2o8 ''CarlyUs Memoirs^ [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to writers, if I allowed them to remain till after my death.

Miss Sara ' , ^ r .

Hcnneii, In proDortion as I love every form of piety — which is

8th Feb. . , T , ,1 . . ,

i86r. venerating love — I hate hard curiosity ; and, unhap-
pily, my experience has impressed me with the sense
that hard curiosity is the more common temper of
mind. But enough of that. The reminders I am get-
ting from time to time of Coventry distress have made
me think very often yearningly and painfully of the
friends who are more immediately affected by it, and
I often wonder if more definite information would in-
crease or lessen my anxiety for them. Send me what
word you can from time to time, that there may be
some reality in my image of things round your hearth.

Le"er I send you by post to-day about two hundred and

Black- thirty pages of MS. I send it because, in my experi-
wood,i5th ^ ^ , , , . ,...,,,

Feb. x86x. eucc, printing and its preliminaries have always been

rather a slow business ; and as the story — if published
at Easter at all — should be ready by Easter week, there
is no time to lose. We are reading "Carlyle's Me-
moirs '' with much interest ; but, so far as we have
gone, he certainly does seem to me something of a
"Sadducee" — a very handsome one, judging from the
portrait. What a memory and what an experience for
a novelist! But, somehow, experience and finished
faculty rarely go together. Dearly beloved Scott had
the greatest combination of experience and faculty,
yet even he never made the most of his treasures, at
least in his mode of presentation. Send us better news
of Major Blackwood, if you can. We feel so old and
rickety ourselves that we have a peculiar interest in
invalids. Mr. Lewes is going to lecture for the Post-
office this evening, by Mr. Trollope's request. I am
rather uneasy about it, and wish he were well through
the unusual excitement.

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i86i.] Pleasure in Zoological Gardens. 209

I have been much relieved by Mr. Lewes having got Lettwto
through his lecture at the Post-office* with perfect ^e,^th
ease and success, for I had feared the unusual excite-
ment for him. / am better. I have not been work-
ing much lately; indeed, this year has been a compar-
atively idle one. I think my malaise is chiefly owing to
the depressing influence of town air and town scenes.
The Zoological Gardens are my one outdoor pleasure
now, and we can take it several times a week, for Mr.
Lewes has become a fellow.

My love is often visiting you. Entertain it well.

I am glad to hear that Mr. Maurice impressed you Letter to
agreeably. If I had strength to be adventurous on Hcnneii,

' ^ J ^ 20th Feb.

Sunday I should go to hear him preach as well as oth- i86r.
ers. But I am unequal to the least exertion or irregu-
larity. My only pleasure away from our own hearth
is going to the Zoological Gardens. Mr. Lewes is a
fellow, so we turn in there several times a week ; and
I find the birds and beasts there most congenial to my
spirit. There is a Shoebill, a great bird of grotesque
ugliness, whose topknot looks brushed up to a point
with an exemplary deference to the demands of society,
but who, I am sure, has no idea that he looks the hand-
somer for it. I cherish an unrequited attachment to him.

If you are in London this morning, in this fine, dun- Letter to
colored fog, you know how to pity me. But I feel my- grevct 23d

,^ .,,;., . . \\ . Feb.i86i.

self wicked for implymg that I have any grievances.
Only last week we had a circular from the clergyman
at Attleboro, where there is a considerable population
entirely dependent on the ribbon-trade, telling us how
the poor weavers are suffering from the effects of the
Coventry strike. And these less-known, undramatic

* Lecture on Cell Forms.

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/

210 ^' Silas Marncr'' Sombre. [x6 Blandford Sq.,
Letter to talcs of Want win no wide help, such as has been given

Mrs- Con-

greve,23d in the casfe of the Hartley colliery accident.

Feb.x86i. ,, , . , . "^ ,

Your letter was a contribution towards a more cheer-
ful view of things, for whatever may be the minor evils
you hint at, I know that Mr. Congreve's better health,
and the satisfaction you have in his doing effective
work, will outweigh them. We have had a Dr. Wyatt
here lately, an Oxford physician, who was much inter-
ested in hearing of Mr. Congreve again, not only on
the ground of Oxford remembrances, but from having
read his writings.

I was much pleased with the affectionate respect
, that was expressed in all the notices of Mr. Clough *
that I happened to see in the newspapers. They were
an indication that there must be a great deal of private
sympathy to soothe poor Mrs. Clough, if any soothing
is possible in such cases. That little poem of his which
was quoted in the Spectator about parted friendships
touched me deeply.

You may be sure we are ailing, but I am ashamed
of dwelling on a subject that offers so little variety.
Letter I don't wonder at your finding my story, as far as

Black- you have read it, rather sombre : indeed, I should not

wood, 24th ^ ^ '

Feb. i86x. havc bcUeved that any one would have been interested

in it but myself (since Wordsworth is dead) if Mr. Lewes

had not been strongly arrested by it. But I hope you

lilM>*M,tuUm^ will not find it at all a sad story, as a whole, since it

^x<i^ttct^ J sejs — or is intended to set — in a strong light the reme-

fU^iUtuJ^^^^^^ influences of pure, natural human relations. The

'Nemesis is a very mild one. I have felt all through

as if the story would have lent itself best to metrical

rather than to prose fiction, especially in all that re-

* Arthur Hugh Clough, the poet.

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i86i.] Chronological Order in Writings. 211

lates to the psychology of Silas ; except that, under ^*"**
that treatment, there could not be an equal play of b^-
humor. It came to me first of all quite suddenly, as Feb. 1861.
a sort of legendary tale, suggested by my recollection
of having once, in early childhood, seen a linen-weaver
with a bag on his back ; but, as my mind dwelt on the
subject, I became inclined to a more realistic treat-
ment.

My chief reason for wishing to publish the story
now is that I like my writings to appear in the order
in which they are written, because they belong to suc-
cessive mental phases, and when they are a year be-
hind me I can no longer feel that thorough identifica-
tion with them which gives zest to the sense of author-
ship. \ generally like them better at that distance,
but then I feel as if they might just as well have been
written by somebody else. It would have been a great
pleasure to me if Major Blackwood could have read
my story. I am very glad to have the first part tested
by the reading of your nephew and Mr. Simpson, and
to find that it can interest them at all.

March 10. — Finished " Silas Marner," and sent off Jonmai,

' >86i.

the last thirty pages to Edinburgh.

Your letter came to me just as we were preparing Letter to

the BniySi

to Start in search of fresh air and the fresh thoughts X9th Mch.

. 1 . -r » • 1 « « 1861, from

that come with it. I hope you never doubt that I feel Hastings.
a deep interest in knowing all facts that touch you
nearly. I should like to think that it was some small
comfort to Cara and you to know that, wherever I am,
there is one among that number of your friends — nec-
essarily decreasing with increasing years — who enter
into your present experience with the light of memo-
ries ; for kind feeling can never replace fully the sym-
pathy that comes from memory. My disposition is so

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212 Tlic Author of'Tfiorndaley [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to faultily anxious and foreboding that I am not likely to

19th Mch. forget anything of a saddening sort.

Hastings. Tell Sara we saw Mr. William Smith, author of
" Thorndale," a short time ago, and he spoke of her
and her book with interest ; he thought her book
" suggestive." He called on us during a visit to Lon-
don, made for the sake of getting married. The lady
is, or rather was, a Miss Cummingj daughter of a blind
physician of Edinburgh. He said they had talked to
each other for some time of the " impossibility " of
marrying, because they were both too poor. " But,"
he said, " it is dangerous, Lewes, to talk even of the
impossibility." The difficulties gradually dwindled,
and the advantages magnified themselves. She is a
nice person, we hear ; and I was particularly pleased
with him — ^he is modest to diffidence, yet bright and
keenly awake.

I am just come in from our first good blow on the
beach, and have that delicious sort of numbness in arms
and legs that comes from walking hard in a fresh wind.
" Silas Marner " is in one volume. It was quite a
sudden inspiration that came across me in the midst
of altogether different meditations.

Letter The latest number I had heard of was three thou-

to John

Black- sand three hundred, so that your letter brought me

wood, 30th ,,.- . » .11 ./^t

Mch.i86i. agreeable information. I am particularly gratified,
because this spirited subscription must rest on my
character as a writer generally, and not simply on the
popularity of " Adam Bede." There is an article on
"The Mill" in Macmillan^s Magazine which is worth
reading. I cannot, of course, agree with the writer in
all his regrets ; if I could have done so I should not
have written the book I did write, but quite another.
Still, it IS a comfort to me to read any criticism which

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i86i.] '^The World'' no Loss. 213

recognizes the high responsibilities of literature that ^f^T
undertakes to represent life. The ordinary tone about b^-
art is that the artist may do what he will, provided heMch.1861.
pleases the public.

I am very glad to be told — whenever you can tell
me — that the major is not suffering heavily. I know
so well the-preciousness of those smiles that tell one
the mind is not held out of all reach of soothing.

We are wavering whether we shall go to Florence
this spring or wait till the year and other things are
more advanced.

It gave me pleasure to have your letter, not only Letter to
because of the kind expressions of sympathy it con- Jay?j>''» »*^
tains, but also because it gives me an opportunity of
telling you, after the lapse of years, that I remem-
ber gratefully how you wrote to me with generous
consideration and belief at a time when most persons
who knew anything of me were disposed (naturally
enough) to judge me rather severely. Only a woman
of rare qualities would have written to me as you did
on the strength of the brief intercourse that had passed
between us.

It was never a trial to me to have been cut off from
what is called the world, and I think I love none of
my fellow-creatures the less for it ; still, I must always
retain a peculiar regard for those who showed me any
kindness in word or deed at that time, when there was
the least evidence in my favor. The list of those who
did so is a short one, so that I can often and easily re-
call it.

For the last six years I have ceased to be " Miss
Evans " for any one who has personal relations with
me — having held myself under all the responsibilities
of a married woman. I wish this to be distinctly un-

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214 ''Silas Marnerr [i6BlandfordSq.,

Letter to dcrstood : and when I tell you that we have a great

Taylor, ist bov of eighteen at home, who calls me " mother," as

well as two other boys, almost as tall, who write to me

under the same name, you will understand that the

point is not one of mere egoism or personal dignity,

when I request that any one who has a regard for me

will cease to speak of me by my maiden name.

^john •"■ *™ n^uch obliged to you for your punctuality in

^^-^j^ sending me my precious check. I prize the money

Aprii.1861. fruit of my labor very highly as the means of saving us

dependence, or the degradation of writing when we are

no longer able to write well, or to write what we have

not written before.

Mr. Langford brought us word that he thought the
total subscription (including Scotland and Ireland)
would mount to fv\^ thousand five hundred. That is
really very great. And letters drop in from time to
time, giving me words of strong encouragement, espe-
cially about " The Mill ;" so that I have reason to be
cheerful, and to believe that where one has a large
public, one's words must hit their mark. If it were
not for that, special cases of misinterpretation might
paralyze me. For example, pray notice how one critic
attributes to me a disdain for Tom ; as if it were not
my respect for Tom which infused itself into my read-
er; as if he could have respected Tom if I had not
painted him with respect ; the exhibition of the right
on both sides being the very soul of my intention in
the story. However, I ought to be satisfied if I have
roused the feeling that does justice to both sides.
Letter to I feel more at ease in omitting formalities with you

Mrs. Peter ** •'

Taylor, 6th than I should with most persons, because I know you
are yourself accustomed to have other reasons for your
conduct than mere fashion, and I believe you will un-

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i86i.] Pays no Visit in London, 215

derstand me without many words when I tell you what !£*«' *<>
Mr. Lewes felt unable to explain on the instant when fayipr, 6th

^ Apnl,i86i.

you kindly expressed the wish to see us at your house;
namely, that I have found it a necessity of my London
life to make the rule of never paying visits. Without a
carriage, and with my easily perturbed health, London
distances would make any other rule quite irreconcila-
ble for me with any efficient use of my days ; and I
am obliged to give up \}R&few visits which would be
really attractive and fruitful in order to avoid the many
visits which would be the reverse. It is only by say-
ing, " I never pay visits," that I can escape being un-
gracious or unkind — only by renouncing all social in-
tercourse but such as comes to our own fireside, that I
can escape sacrificing the chief objects of my life.

I think it very good of those with whom I have much
fellow-feeling, if they will let me have the pleasure of
seeing them without their expecting the usual reci-
procity of visits ; and I hope I need hardly say that
you are among the visitors who would be giving me
pleasure in this way. I think your imagination will
supply all I have left unsaid, all the details that run
away with our hours when our life extends at all be-
yond our own homes; and I am not afraid of your mis-
interpreting my stay-at-home rule into churlishness.

We went to hear Beethoven's "Mass in D" lastj^^erto

Miss Sara

night, and on Wednesday to hear Mendelssohn's " Wal- JJfJJ^"^,
purgis Nacht " and Beethoven's " Symphony in B," so »86i.
that we have had two musical treats this week ; but
the enjoyment of such things is much diminished by
the gas and bad air. Indeed, our long addiction to a
guiet life, in which our daily walk among the still
grass and trees was ^ifete to us, has unfitted us for the
sacrifices that London demands. Don't think about

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2i6 Second Journey to Italy. [Italy,

Letter to reading "Silas Marner" just because it is come out.

Miss Sara ^ , "^

Hraneu, I hatc obUgato reading and obligato talk about my

13 th Apnlf ,

»86«- books. I never send them to any one, and never wish to
be spoken to about them, except by an unpremeditat-
ed, spontaneous prompting. They are written out of
my deepest belief, and, as well as I can, for the great
public, and every sincere, strong word will find its
mark in that public. Perhaps the annoyance I suf-
fered (referring to the Liggins' affair) has made me
rather morbid on such points ; but, apart from my own
weaknesses, I think the less an author hears about
himself the better. Don't mistake me : I am writing
a general explanation, not anything applicable to you.

Journal, April 19. — We set off on our second journey to
Florence, through France and by the Cornice Road.
Our weather was delicious, a little rain, and we suf-
fered neither from heat nor from dust.

Letter to We havc had a paradisaic journey hitherto. It does

Charles L. t. j j

Lewes, one good to look at the Provencals — men and women.

2sth Apnl, ® *

1861. They are quite a different race from the Northern
French — large, round-featured, full-eyed, with an ex-
pression of bonhomie, calm and suave. They are very
much like the pleasantest Italians. The women at
Aries and Toulon are remarkably handsome. On
Tuesday morning we set out about ten on our way to
Nice, hiring a carriage and taking post-horses. The
sky was gray, and after an hour or so we had rain ;
nevertheless our journey to Vidauban, about half-way
to Nice, was enchanting. Everywhere a delicious
plain, covered with bright green corn, sprouting vines,
mulberry- trees, olives, and here and there meadows
sprinkled with buttercups, made the nearer landscapes,
and, in the distance, mountains of varying outline.
Mutter felt herself in a state of perfect bliss from only

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i86i.] Drive from Toulon to Nice. 217

looking at this peaceful, generous nature; and youif?f*^
often came across the green blades of corn, and made Lewej '
her love it all the better. We had meant to go on to »86i.
Fr^jus that night, but no horses were to be had ; so
we made up our minds to rest at Vidauban, and went
out to have a stroll before our six -o'clock dinner.
Such a stroll ! The sun had kindly come out for us,
and we enjoyed it all the more for the grayness of the
morning. There is a crystally clear river flowing by
Vidauban, called the Argent : it rushes along between
a fringe of aspens and willows ; and the sunlight lay
under the boughs, and fell on the eddying water, mak-
ing Pater and me very happy as we wandered. The
next morning we set off early, to be sure of horses be-
fore they had been used up by other travellers. The
country was not quite so lovely, but we had the sun-
light to compensate until we got past Fr^jus, where we
had our first view of the sea since Toulon, and where
the scenery changes to the entirely mountainous, the
road winding above gorges of pine-clad masses for a
long way. To heighten the contrast, a heavy storm
came, which thoroughly laid the dust for us, if it had
no other advantage. The sun came out gloriously
again before we reached Cannes, and lit up the yellow
broom, which is now in all its splendor, and clothes vast
slopes by which our road wound. We had still a four-
hours' journey to Nice, where we arrived at six o'clock,
with headaches that made us glad of the luxuries to be
found in a great hotel.

May 5. — Dear Florence was lovelier than ever on Journal,
this second view, and ill-health was the only deduction
from perfect enjoyment. We had comfortable quar-
ters in the Albergo della Vittoria, on the Arno ; we
had the best news from England about the success of

11. 10 ^ T

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21 8 Stay in Florence. [Florence,

Journal, " Silas Marner ;" and we had long letters from our dear

i86z«

boy to make us feel easy about home.
Letter^ Your pleasant news had been ripening at the post-
B^- ^^ oflSce several days before we enjoyed the receipt of it;
May, 1861. for our journey lasted us longer than we expected, and
we didn't reach this place till yesterday evening. We
have come with vetturino from Toulon — the most de-
lightful (and the most expensive) journey we have ever
had. I dare say you know the Cornice ; if not, do
know it some time, and bring Mrs. Blackwood that
way into Italy. Meanwhile I am glad to think that
you are having a less fatiguing change to places where
you can " carry the comforts o* the Saut Market " with
you, which is not quite the case with travellers along
the Mediterranean coast. I hope I shall soon hear
that you are thoroughly set up by fresh air and fresh
circumstances, along with pleasant companionship.

Except a thunderstorm, which gave a grand variety
to the mountains, and a little gentle rain, the first day
from Toulon, which made the green corn all the fresh-
er, we have had unbroken sunshine, without heat and
without dust. I suppose this season and late autumn
must be the perfect moments for taking this supremely
beautiful journey. We must be forever ashamed of
ourselves if we don't work the better for it.

It was very good of you to write to me in the midst
of your hurry, that I might have good news to greet
me. It really did lighten our weariness, and make the
noisy streets that prevented sleep more endurable. I
was amused with your detail about Professor Aytoun's
sovereigns. There can be no great paintings of misers
under the present system of paper money — checks,
bills, scrip, and the like — nobody can handle that dull
property as men handled the glittering gold.

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i86i.] Renewed Delight in Florence. 219

The Florentine winds, being of a grave and earnest Letter to

Charles L>

disposition, have naturally a disgust for trivial dilet- Lewes,

x/th Mayt

tanti foreigners, and seize on the peculiarly feeble and «86i.
worthless with much virulence. In consequence we
had a sad history for nearly a week — Pater doing little
else than nurse me, and I doing little else but feel em-
inently uncomfortable, for which, as you know, I have
a faculty " second to none." I feel very full of thank-
' fulness for all the creatures I have got to love — all the
beautiful and great things that are given me to know ;
and I feel, too, much younger and more hopeful, as if
a great deal of life and work were still before me.
Pater and I have had great satisfaction in finding our
impressions of admiration more than renewed in re-
turning to Florence ; the things we cared about when
we were here before seem even more worthy than they
did in our memories. We have had delightful weather
since the cold winds abated ; and the evening lights
on the Arno, the bridges, and the quaint houses, are a
treat that we think of beforehand.

Your letters, too, are thought of beforehand. We
long for them, and when they come they don't disap-
point us : they tell us everything, and make us feel at
home with you after a fashion. I confess to some
dread of Blandford Square in the abstract. I fear
London will seem more odious to me than ever; but I
think I shall bear it with more fortitude. After all,
that is the best place to live in where one has a strong
reason for living.

We have been industriously foraging in old streets Letter
and old books. I feel very brave just now, and enjoy BJack-
the thought of work — but don't set your mind on my May,'i86i.
doing just what I have dreamed. It may turn out
that I can't work freely and fully enough in the medium

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220 Enjoying the Thought of Work. [Florence,
Letter I havc chosen, and in that case I must give it up; for

to John . & 1 »

Black- I will never write anything to which my whole heart,

woodjigth . , /. ,

May,x86x. mind, and conscience don't consent, so that I may feel
that it was something — however small — which wanted
to be done in this world, and that I am just the organ
for that small bit of work.

I am very much cheered by the way in which " Silas "
is received. I hope it has made some slight pleasure
for you too, in the midst of incomparably deeper feel- '
ings of sadness.^ Your quiet tour among the lakes was
the best possible thing for you. What place is not
better "out of the season"? — although I feel I am al-
most wicked in my hatred of being where there are
many other people enjoying themselves. I am very
far behind Mr. Buckle's millennial prospect, which is,
that men will be more and more congregated in cities
and occupied with human affairs, so as to be less and
less under the influence of Nature — /. ^., the sky, the
hills, and the plains; whereby superstition will vanish
and statistics will reign for ever and ever.

Mr. Lewes is kept in continual distraction by having
to attend to my wants — going with me to the Maglia-
becchian Library, and poking about everywhere on my
behalf — I having very little self-help about me of the
pushing and inquiring kind.

I look forward with keen anxiety to the next out-
break of war — longing for some turn of affairs that
will save poor Venice from being bombarded by those
terrible Austrian forts.

Thanks for your letters : we both say, " More — give
us more."
ChLries L Florence is getting hot, and I am the less sorry to

Lewes, • — —

27th May,

^86'- ' The death of Major Blackwood.

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i86i.] Expedition to CamaldoH. 221

leave it because it has agreed very ill with the dear Letter to

*=* "* Charles L.

Paterculus. This evening we have been mounting to ^®T[^
the top of Giotto's tower — a very sublime getting up- ^^^i.
stairs, indeed — and our muscles are much astonished
at the unusual exercise; so you must not be shocked
if my letter seems to be written with dim faculties as
well as with a dim light.

We have seen no one but Mrs. Trollope and her
pretty little girl Beatrice, who is a musical genius. She
is a delicate fairy, about ten years old, but sings with
a grace and expression that make it a thrilling delight
to hear her.

We have had glorious sunsets, shedding crimson and
golden lights under the dark bridges across the Arno.
All Florence turns out at eventide, but we avoid the
slow crowds on the Lung* Arno, and take our way " up
all manner of streets."

May^nd June. — At the end of May Mr. T. Trollope journal,
came back and persuaded us to stay long enough to
make the expedition to Camaldoli and La Vernia in
his company. We arrived at Florence on the 4th
May, and left it on the 7th June — thirty-four days of
precious time spent there. 'Will it be all in vain?
Our morning hours were spent in looking at streets,
buildings, and pictures, in hunting up old books at
shops or stalls, or in reading at the Magliabecchian
Library. Alas! I could have done much more if I
had been well; but that regret applies to most years
of my life. Returned by Lago Maggiore and the St.
Gothard; reached home June 14. Blackwood having
waited in town to see us, came to lunch with us, and
asked me if I would go to dine at Greenwich on the
following Monday, to which I said " Yes," by way of
exception to my resolve that I will go nowhere for the

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222 Dinner at Greenwich. [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Journal, rcst of this vcar. He drove us there with Colonel

j86i. ^

Stewart, and we had a pleasant evening — the sight of
a game at golf in the park, and a hazy view of the dis-
tant shipping, with the Hospital finely broken by trees
in the foreground. At dinner Colonel Hamley and
Mr. Skene joined us; Delane, who had been invited,
was unable to come. The chat was agreeable enough,
but the sight of the gliding ships darkening against
the dying sunlight made me feel chat rather impor-
tunate.

yune 1 6. — This morning, for the first time, I feel
myself quietly settled at home. I am iii excellent
health, and long to work steadily and effectively. If
it were possible that I should produce better work than
I have yet done ! At least there is a possibility that
I may make greater efforts against indolence and the
despondency that comes from loo egoistic a dread of
failure.

June 19. — This is the last entry I mean to make in
my old book, in which I wrote for the first time at'
Geneva in 1849. What moments of despair I passed
through after that — despair that life would ever be
made precious to me by the consciousness that I lived
to some good purpose ! It was that sort of despair
that sucked away the sap of half the hours which
might have been filled by energetic youthful activity;
and the same demon tries to get hold of me again
whenever an old work is dismissed and a new one is
being meditated.
Letter to Some of one's first thoughts on coming home after

Miss Sara , ^ , ° , ^

Henneii, an abscucc of much length are about the friends one

x86i. ' had left behind— what has happened to them in the

meantime, and how are they now ? And yet, though

we came home last Friday evening, I have not had the

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i86i.] • Mr. Lewes Delicate. 22^

quiet moment for writing these thoughts until this Jitter to
morning. I know I need put no questions to you, who Henneii.
always divine what I want to be told. We have had »86i.
a perfect journey except as regards health — a large,
large exception. The cold winds alternating with the
hot sun, or some other cause, laid very unkind hold
on Mr. Lewes early after our arrival at Florence, and
he was ailing with sore throat and cough continually,
so that he has come back looking thin and delicate,
though the ailments seem to be nearly passed away.

I wish you could have shared the pleasures of our
last expedition from Florence — to the Monasteries of
Camaldoli and La Vernia; I think it was just the sort
of thing you would have entered into with thorough
zest. Imagine the Franciscans of La Vernia, which is
perched upon an abrupt rock rising sheer on the sum-
mit of a mountain, turning out at midnight (and when
there is deep snow for their feet to plunge in), and
chanting their slow way up to the little chapel perched
• at a lofty distance above their already lofty monastery !
This they do every night throughout the year, in all
weathers.

Give my loving greeting to Cara and Mr. Bra}', and
then sit down and write me one of your charming let-
ters, making a little picture of everybody and every-
thing about you. God bless you ! is the old-fashioned
summing up of sincere affection, without the least
smirk of studied civility.

Your letter gave me a pleasant vision of Sunday sun- Utter to

. n f , . / Miss Sara

shme on the flowers, and you among them, with your HenneU,
eyes brightened by busy and enjoyable thoughts. x86i.

Yes, I hope we are well out of that phase in which
the most philosophic view of the past was held to be a
smiling survey of human folly, and when the wisest

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224 Comte and his Critics. [i6 Blandfom> Sq,

Letter to man was supposed to be one who could sympathize
HenneU, with no age but the age to come.

12th July,

1861. When I received your Monday packet I was fresh

from six quarto volumes on the history of the monastic
orders, and had just begun a less formidable modern
book on the same subject — Montalembert's " Monks
of the West." Our reading, you see, lay in very differ-
ent quarters, but I fancy our thoughts sometimes
touched the same ground. I am rather puzzled and
shocked, however, by your high admiration of the arti-
cles on the " Study of History," in the Comhill I
should speak with the reserve due to the fact that I
have only read the second article; and this, I confess,
did not impress me as exhibiting any mastery of the
question, while its tone towards much abler thinkers
than the writer himself is to me extremely repulsive.
Such writing as, " We should not be called upon to
believe that every crotchet which tickled the insane
vanity of a conceited Frenchman was an eternal and
self-evident truth," is to me simply disgusting, though
it were directed against the father of lies. It represents
no fact except the writer's own desire to be bitter, and
is worthily finished by the dull and irreverent antithe-
sis of "the eternal truth and infernal lie."

I quite agree with you — so far as I am able to form
a judgment— in regarding Positivism as one-sided; but
Comte was a great thinker, nevertheless, and ought
to be treated with reverence by all smaller fry.

I have just been reading the " Survey of the Middle
Ages "contained in the fifth volume of the "Philoso-
phic Positive," and to my apprehension few chapters
can be fuller of luminous ideas. I am thankful to
learn from it. There may be more profundity in the
CornhilTs exposition than I am able to penetrate, or,

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i86i.] The English ''Imitation'* 225

possibly, the first article may contain weightier matter t^s^L^a
than the second. Henneii,

X2th July,

Mrs. Bodichon is near us now, and one always gets »86i.
good from contact with her healthy, practical life. Mr.
Lewes is gone to see Mrs. Congreve and carry his net
to the Wimbledon ponds. I hope he will get a little
strength as well as grist for his microscope.

The English " Imitation '' I told you of, which is \^'^^^^
used by the Catholics, is Challoner's. I have looked Rreve, isth

... . . July, 1861.

into it again since I saw you, and I think, if you want
to give the book away, this translation is as good as
any you are likely to get among current editions. If
it were for yourself, an old bookstall would be more
likely to furnish what you want. Don't ever think of
me as valuing either you or Mr. Congreve less instead
of more. You naughtily implied something of that
kind just when you were running away from me. How
could any goodness become less precious to me unless
my life had ceased to be a growth, and had become
mere shrinking and degeneracy? I always imagine
that if I were near you now I should profit more by
the gift of your presence — ^just as one feels about all
past sunlight.

yuly 24. — Walked with George over Primrose Hill. Diary,x86i.
We talked of Plato and Aristotle.

yuly 26. — In the evening went to see Fechter as
Hamlet, and sat next to Mrs. Carlyle.

yuly 30. — Read little this morning — my mind dwell-
ing with much depression on the probability or im-
probability of my achieving the work I wish to do. I
struck out two or three thoughts towards an English nov-
el. I am much afflicted with hopelessness and nielan- j^^^^^ ^^
choly just now, and yet I feel the value of my blessings. nSiicur

Thorn ie, our second boy, is at home from Edinburgh ^^ J^y»

11.-10*

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226 Fechter in ''Hamlet^ [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to for his holidays, and I am apt to give raore thought

Mitt Sara , » • i i •

HenneU, than IS ncccssary to any little change in our routine.

1861. ' We had a treat the other night which I wished you
could have shared with us. We saw Fechter in Ham-
let. His conception of the part is very nearly that in-
dicated by the critical observations in " Wilhelm Meis-
ter," and the result is deeply interesting — the natural-
ness and sensibility of the Wesen overcoming in most
cases the defective intonation. And even the intona-
tion is occasionally admirable ; for example, " And for
my soul, what can he do to that ?" etc., is given by
Fechter with perfect simplicity, whereas the herd of
' English actors imagine themselves in a pulpit when
they are saying it. A propos of the pulpit, I had an-
other failure in my search for edification last Sunday.
Mme. Bodichon and I went to Little Portland Street
Chapel, and lo I instead of James Martineau there was
a respectable old Unitarian gentleman preaching about
the dangers of ignorance and the satisfaction of a good
conscience, in a tone of amiable propriety which seemed
to belong to a period when brains were untroubled by
difficulties, and the lacteals of all good Christians were
in perfect order. I enjoyed the fine selection of col-
lects he read from the Liturgy. What an age of earnest
faith, grasping a noble conception of life and deter-
mined to bring all things into harmony with it, has re-
corded itself in the simple, pregnant, rhythmical English
of those collects and of the Bible ! The contrast when the
good man got into the pulpit and began to pray in a bor-
rowed,washy lingo— extempore in more senses than one !

Diajy»i86i. Aug, I.— Struggling constantly with depression.

Aug, 2, — Read Boccaccio's capital story of Fra Cipol-
la — one of his few good stories — and the Little Hunch-
back in the "Arabian Nights," which is still better.

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i86i.] Musical Evenings. 227

Aug, 10. — Walked with G. We talked of my Italian Diary,i86x.
novel. In the evening, Mr. Pigott and Mr. Redford.

Aug, 12. — Got into a state of so much wretchedness
in attempting to concentrate my thoughts on the con-
struction of my story that I became desperate, and sud-
denly burst my bonds, saying, I will not think of writing!

That doctrine which we accept rather loftily as aLett«'to
commonplace when we are quite young — namely, that *^*'J°jJ
our happiness lies entirely within, in our own mental »86o.
and bodily state, which determines for us the influence
of everything outward — becomes a daily lesson to be
learned, and learned with much stumbling, as we get
older. And until we know our friends' private thoughts
and emotions we hardly know what to grieve or re-
joice over for them.

Aug. 17. — Mr. Pigott and Mr. Redford came, who Diaiy,i86i.
gave us some music.

Aug, 20. — ^his morning I conceived the plot of my
novel with new distinctness.

Aug. 24. — Mr. Pigott and Mr. Redford came, and
we had music. These have been placid, ineffective
days, my mind being clouded and depressed.

Aug, 26. — Went with -Barbara to her school, and
spent the afternoon there.

Aug. 31. — In the evening came Mr. Pigott and Mr.
Redford, and we had some music.

Your letter was a great delight to us, as usual ; and Letter to
the check, too, was welcome to people under hydro- Lewes,
pathic treatment, which appears to stimulate waste of i86j,froin
coin as well as of tissue. Altogether, we are figures in
keeping with the landscape when it is well damped or
" packed " under the early mist.

We thought rather contemptuously of the hills on
our arrival ; like travelled people, we hinted at the

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228 Trip to Malvern, [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to Alps and Apennines, and smiled with pity at our long-
Uwes, past selves, that had felt quite a thrill at the first sight
1861, from of them. But now we have tired our limbs by walking
round their huge shoulders we begin to think of them
with more respect We simply looked at them at first;
we feel their presence now, and creep about them with
due humility — whereby, you perceive, there hangs a
moral. I do wish you could have shared for a little
while with us the sight of this place. I fear you have
never seen England under so lovable an aspect. On
the southeastern side, where the great green hills have
their longest slope, Malvern stands, well nestled in fine
trees — chiefly "sounding sycamores" — and beyond
there stretches to the horizon, which is marked by a
low, faint line of hill, a vast level expanse of grass and
cornfields, with hedgerows everywhere plumed with
trees, and here and there a rolling mass of wood ; it is
one of the happiest scenes the eyes can look on —
freundlich^ according to the pretty German phrase.
On the opposite side of this main range of hills there
is a more undulated and more thickly wooded country
which has the sunset all to itself, and is bright with de-
parting lights when our Malvern side is in cold evening
shadow. We are so fortunate as to look out over the
wide southeastern valley from our sitting-room window.
Our landlady is a quaint old personage, with a strong
Cheshire accent. She is, as she tells us, a sharp old
woman, and " can see most things pretty quick ;" and
she is kind enough to communicate her wisdom very
freely to us less crisply baked mortals.
Diary,i86x. Sept, 1 1. — Yesterday we returned from Malvern (hav-
ing gone there on 4th). During our stay I read Mrs.
Jameson's book on the " Legends of the Monastic Or-
ders," corrected the first volume of " Adam Bede " for

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i86i.] Need of Assembling. 229

the new edition, and began Marchese's " Storia di San Diary,x86i.
Marco."

I enter into your and Cara's furniture-adjusting Ia-Jj^^^g*J^
bors and j'our enjoyment of church and chapel after- J|fh?ipt
wards. One wants a temple besides the out-door tem- '^''
pie — a place where human beings do not ramble apart,
but meet with a common impulse. I hope you have
some agreeable lens through which you can look at
circumstances — good health, at least. And really I
begin to think people who are robust are in a position ,
to pity all the rest of the world — except, indeed, that ,
there are certain secrets taught only by pain, which j
are, perhaps, worth the purchase.

Sept, 23. — I have been unwell ever since we returned r>iaiy,i86i.
from Malvern, and have been disturbed, from various
causes, in my work, so that I have scarcely done any-
thing except correct my own books for a new edition.
To-day I am much better, and hope to begin a more
effective life to-morrow.

Sept, 28. — In the evening Mr. Spencer, Mr. Pigott,
and Mr. Redford came. We talked with Mr. Spencer
about his chapter on the " Direction of Force " — i, e.,
line of least resistance.

Sept, 29 (Sunday). — Finished correcting "Silas
Marner." I have thus corrected all my books for a
new and cheaper edition, and feel my mind free for
other work. Walked to the Zoo with the boys.

Oct. 3. — To-day our new grand piano came — a great
addition to our pleasures. *

Oct, 4. — My mind still worried about my plot — and
without any confidence in my ability to do what I want.

Oct, 5. — In the evening Mr. Redford and Mr. Spencer Letter to
came, and we had much music. H«ndir

We are enjoying a great pleasure, a new grand Jg^.^^**

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230 New Grand Piano, [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to piano, and last evening we had a Beethoven night.
Henneii, Wc are looking out for a violinist : we have our vio-

6th Oct

«86i. loncello, who is full of sensibility, but with no negative
in him — /. ^., no obstinate sense of time— a man who
is all assent and perpetual rallmtando. We can enjoy
the pleasure the more because Mr. Lewes's health is
promising.

Diaiy,i86i. Oct, 7. — Began the first chapter of my novel (" Rom--

ola").

Oct, 9.— Read Nerli.

Oct, II.— Nardi's "History of Florence." In the
afternoon walked with Barbara, and talked with her
from lunch till dinner-time.

Oct, 12. — In the evening we had our usual Saturday
mixture of visitors, talk, and music ; an agreeable ad-
dition being Dr. McDonnell of Dublin.

Oct, 14. — Went with Barbara to her school to hear
the children sing.

Oct, 18. — Walked with G. and Mr. Spencer to Hamp-

stead, and continued walking for more than five hours.

In the evening we had music. Mrs. Bodichon and

Miss Parkes were our additional visitors.

Letter to I am rather jealous of the friends who get so much

Mrs. Con- ^ . „ , , . .

greve, 23d of you— especially when they are so unmeritorious as
to be evangelical and spoil your rest. But I will not
grumble. I am in the happiest, most contented mood,
and have only good news to tell you. I have hardly
any trouble nearer to me than the American War and
the prospects of poor cotton weavers. While you were
. shivering at Boulogne we were walking fast to avoid
shivering at Malvern, and looking slightly blue after
our sitz baths. Nevertheless that discipline answered
admirably, and Mr. Lewes's health has been steadily
improving since our Malvern expedition. As for me.

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i86i.] Improved Health from Malvern. 23 1

imagine what I must be to have walked for five hours Jf ***^^°
the other day I Or, better still, imagine me always gT^^'ig**
cheerful, and infer the altered condition of my mucous
membrane. The difference must be there; for it is
not in my moral sentiments or in my circumstances,
unless, indeed, a new grand piano, which tempts me to
play more than I have done for years before, may be
reckoned an item important enough to have contrib-
uted to the change. We talk of you very often, and
the image of you is awakened in my mind still oftener.
You are associated by many subtile, indescribable ties
with some of my most precious and most silent thoughts.
I am so glad you have the comfort of feeling that Mr.
Congreve is prepared for his work again. I am hoping
to hear, when we see you, that the work will be less
and less fagging, now the introductory years are past.

Charley is going to Switzerland for his holiday next
month. We shall enjoy our dual solitude; yet the
dear boy is more and more precious to us from the
singular rectitude and tenderness of his nature. Make
signs to us as often as you can. You know how en-
tirely Mr. Lewes shares my delight in seeing you and
hearing from you.

Oct 28 and 30. — Not very well. Utterly despond- i>iary,i86x.
ing about my book.

Oct 31. — Still with an incapable head — trying to
write, trying to construct, and unable.

Nov. 6. — So utterly dejected that, in walking with
G. in the Park, I almost resolved to give up my
Italian novel.

Nov. 10 (Sunday). — New sense of things to be done
in my novel, and more brightness in my thoughts.
Yesterday I was occupied with ideas about my next
English, novel; but this morning the Italian scenes

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232 Fechier in '' Othello ^ [i6 Blandford Sq.,

DUry,i86i. rctumed upon me with fresh attraction. In the even-
\ ing read " Monteil." A marvellous book ; crammed
with erudition, yet not dull or tiresome.

Nov, 14. — ^Went to the British Museum reading-
room for the first time — looking over costumes.

Nov, 20 — Mrs. Congreve, Miss Bury, and Mr. Spen-
cer to lunch.
Letter to Your loviug words of remembrance find a very full

Miss Sara . , <- 1, . •» . mt

Henneii, auswer in my heart — fuller than I can write. The
1861. ' years seem to rush by now, and I think of death as a
fast-approaching end of a journey — double and treble
reason for lo^jng as well as working while it is day.
We went to see Fechter's Othello the other night. It
is lamentably bad. He has not weight and passion
enough for deep tragedy ; and, to my feeling, the play
is so degraded by his representation that it is posi-
tively demoralizing — as, indeed, all tragedy must be
when it fails to move pity and terror. In this case it
seems to move only titters among the smart and vul-
gar people who always make the bulk of a theatre au-
dience. We had a visit from our dear friend Mrs.
Congreve on Wednesday — a very infrequent pleasure
now ; for between our own absences from home and
hers, and the fatigue of London journeying, it is difficult
for us to manage meetings. Mr. Congreve is, as usual,
working hard in his medical studies — toiling backward
and forward daily. What courage and patience are
wanted for every life that aims to produce anything !
Journal, Nov. 30. — In the evening we had Wilkie Collins,
Mr. Pigott, and Mr. Spencer, and talked without any
music.

Dec, 3-7. — I continued very unwell until Saturday,
when I felt a little better. In the evening Dr. Baetcke,
Mr. Pigott, and Mr. Redford.

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i86i.] Mr. Lewes on Aristotle. 233

Miss Marshall came to see us yesterday. That is Letter to

•' •' Miss Sara

always a pleasure to me, not only from the sense I ^J*g^"'
have of her goodness, but because she stirs so many «86i.
remembrances. The first time I saw her was at Ru-
fa's* wedding; and don't you remember the evening
we spent at Mrs. Dobson's ? How young we all were
then — ^how old now ! She says you are all under the
impression that Mr. Lewes is still very ailing. Thank
all good influences it is not so. He has been mend-
ing ever since we went to Malvern, and is enjoying
life and work more than he has done before for nearly
a year. He has long had it in his mind to write a his-
tory of science — a great, great undertaking, which it is
happiness to both of us to contemplate as possible for
him. And now he is busy with Aristotle, and works
with all the zest that belongs to fresh ideas. Strangely
enough, after all the ages of writing about Aristotle,
there exists no fair appreciation of his position in nat-
ural science.

I am particularly grumbling and disagreeable to
myself just now, and I think no one bears physical
pain so ill as I do, or is so thoroughly upset by it
mentally.

Bulwer has behaved very nicely to me, and I have
a great respect for the energetic industry with whiqj^
he has made the most of his powers. He has been
writing diligently in very various departments for more
than thirty years, constantly improving his position,
and profiting by the lessons of public opinion and of
other writers.

I'm sorry you feel any degeneracy in Mr. George
Dawson. There was something very winning about

1 Mrs. Charles Hennell (now Mrs. Call).

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234 ^^^ George Dawson. [i6 Biandford Sq.,

Letter to him in old days, and even what was not winning, but

Miss San

Heimeii, the revcrse, affected me with a sort of kindly pity.

6th Dec .

1861. With such a gift of tongue as he had, it was inevitable
that speech should outrun feeling and experience, and
I could well imagine that his present self might look
back on that self of 21-27 with a sort of disgust It
so often happens that others are measuring us by our
past self while we are looking back on that self with a
mixture of disgust and sorrow. It would interest me
a good deal to know just how Mr. Dawson preaches
now.

I am writing on my knees with my feet on the fen-
der, and in that attitude I always write very small —
but I hope your sight is not teased by small writing.

Give my best love to Cara, and sympathy with her
in the pleasure of grasping an old friend by the hand,
and having long talks after the distance of years. I
know Mr. Bray will enjoy this too — and the new house
will seem more like the old one for this warming.
Journal, jDec. 8 (Sunday). — G. had a headache, so we walked
out in the morning sunshine. I told him my concep-
tion of my stor}', and he expressed great delight
Shall I ever be able to carry out my ideas ? Flashes
of hope are succeeded by long intervals of dim dis-
l^ust Finished the eighth volume of Lastri and began
the ninth chapter of Varchi, in which he gives an accu-
rate account of Florence.

Dec. 12. — Finished writing my plot, of which I must
make several other draughts before I begin to write
my book.

Dec, 13. — Read Poggiana. In the afternoon walked
to Molini's and brought back Savonarola's " Dialogus
de Veritate Prophetica," and "Compendium Revela-
tionum," for £j^ !

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i86i.] Studying for ^'Romolar 235

Dec, 14. — In the evening came Mr. Huxley, Mr. Jc^raaJ.
Pigott, and Mr. Redford.

Dec, 17. — Studied the topography of Florence.

It was pleasant to have a greeting from you at this Letter^to^^
season, when all signs of human kindness have a Taylor,

' ° 31st Dec.

double emphasis. As one gets older epochs have nee- »86i.
essarily some sadness, even for those who have, as
I have, much family joy. The past, that one would
like to mend, spreads behind one so lengthily, and the
years of retrieval keep shrinking — the terrible /<?df« de
chagrin whose outline narrows and narrows with our
ebbing life.

I hardly know whether it would be agreeable to you,
or worth your while, ever to come to us on a Saturday
evening, when we are always at home to any friend
who may be kind enough to come to us. It would be
very pleasant to us if it were pleasant to you.

During the latter half of 1861, I find the follow-
ing among the books read : " Histoire des Ordres
Religieux," Sacchetti's "Novelle," Sismondi's "His-
tory of the Italian Republics," " Osservatore Fio-
rentino," Tennemann's " History of Philosophy,"
T. A. Trollope's " Beata," Sismondi's " Le Moyen
Age Illustrd," "The Monks of the West," "Intro-
duction to Savonarola's Poems," by Audin de R4»>
ans, Renan's "Etudes d'Histoire Religieuse," Vir-
gil's "Eclogues," Buhle's " History of Modern Phi-
losophy," Hallam on the " Study of Roman Law in
the Middle Ages," Gibbon on the " Revival of Greek
Learning," Nardi, Bulwer's "Rienzi," Burlamac-
chi's " Life of Savonarola," Pulci, Villari's " Life
of Savonarola," Mrs. Jameson's " Sacred and Leg-
endary Art," " Hymni and Epigrammatl " of Ma- t^^ /
ruUus, Politian's "'Epistles," Marchese's Works, !

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236 Books Read, [16 Blandford Sq.,

Tiraboschi, Rock's "Hierurgia," Pettigrew "On
Medical Superstition," Manni's "Life of Burchi-
ello," Machiavelli's Works, Ginguen^, Muratori
" On Proper Names," Cicero " De Officiis," Pe-
trarch's Letters, Craik's " History of English Liter-
ature," " Conti Carnivaleschi," Letters of Filelfo,
Lastri, and Varchi, Heeren on the Fifteenth Cen-
tur3^

SUMMARY.

JULY, i860, TO DECEMBER, 1 86 1.

Return from Italy to Wandsworth, accompanied by Charles
Lewes — " Mill on the Floss " success — 6000 sold — Letter to John
Blackwood — French translation of " Adam Bede," by M. d'Albert
of Geneva — Letter to Miss Hennell on her " Thoughts in Aid of
Faith " — Letter to John Blackwood on Sir Edward Lytton's criti-
cism of " The Mill on the Floss "--Letter to Mrs. Bray, recall-
ing feelings on journey to Italy in 1849 — Letter to Miss Sara
Hennell — Article on Strikes, by Henry Fawcett, in Westminster —
Sitting to Lawrence for portrait — Letter to Madame Bodichon —
Interest in her schools — Letter to Miss Hennell, explaining criti-
cism of ** Thoughts in Aid of Faith " — Reading Emerson's " Man
the Reformer " — Deprecates writing about opinions on large ques-
tions in letters — Letter to John Blackwood — Italian novel project
— Letter to Madame Bodichon — Love of the country — Removal
to 10 Harewood Square — " Brother Jacob " written — Letter to
Mrs. Congreve— Frederic Harrison's article in Westminster on
" Essays and Reviews " — Letter to John Blackwood — Religious
party standpoint — Classical quotations — Letter to Miss Hennell
on re-reading " Thoughts in Aid of Faith " — Tribute to Mr.Lewes's
dispassionate judgment — Suffering from loss of the country — In-
dependence secured — Anthony Trollope and Arthur Helps —
Queen's admiration of "Mill on the Floss" — Writing "Silas
Marner " a sudden inspiration — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Mon-
day Popular Concerts — Moved to 16 Blandford Square — Waste
of time in furnishing — Letter to Madame Bodichon — On religious
forms and ceremonies — Herbert Spencer's new work, the best
thing he has done — Letter to John Blackwood — " Silas Marner "—

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i86o-6i.] Summary of Chapter XL 237

Letters to Mrs. Congrevc — Zoological Gardens — ^Visit to Dorking
— Letter to John Blackwood — Scott — Letters to Miss Hennell —
Private correspondence — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Arthur
Clough's death — Letter to John Blackwood — " Silas Mamer " —
Books belong to successive mental phases — "Silas Mamer"
finished — Visit to Hastings — Letter to Charles Bray — Marriage
of Mr. William Smith — Letter to John Blackwood — Subscrip-
tion to " Silas Mamer " 3300— Article in Macmillan on ** The
Mill"— Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor— Position— Letter to John
Blackwood— Total Subscription to ** Silas Marner " 5500— Criti-
cism on " The Mill " — Letter to Mrs. P. Taylor — Never pays vis-
its — Letter to Miss Hennell — Hearing Beethoven and Men-
delssohn music — Start on second journey to Italy — Letter to
Charles Lewes, describing drive from Toulon to Nice — Arrival
at Florence — Letter to John Blackwood — No painting of misers
with paper money — Letter to Charles Lewes — Feels hopeful about
future work — Letter to John Blackwood — Italian novel simmer-
ing — Letter to Charles Lewes — Beatrice Trollope — Expedition to
Camaldoli and La Vernia with Mr. T. A. Trollope — Return
home by Lago Maggiore and SL Gothard — Dinner at Greenwich
with John Blackwood, Colonel Hamley, etc.— Reflections on waste
of youth — Letters to Miss Hennell describing La Vernia — Im-
provement in general philosophic attitude — Articles on "Study
of History" in the CV;r///4/7/— Positivism one-sided — Admiration
of Corate — Letter to Miss Hennell— Fechter in Hamlet — The Lit-
urgy of the English Church — Depression — Musical Evenings
with Mr. Pigott and Mr. Redford— Trip to Malvern— Letter to
Miss Hennell — New grand piano — Began " Romola "—Saturday
visitors — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Better spirits — Renewed de-
pression — Letter to Miss Hennell — Time flying — Fechter as
Othello — Letter to Miss Hennell — Lewes busy with Aristotle —
Bulwer — George Dawson — Reading towards "Romola" — Letter
to Mrs. Peter Taylor on the Past — Books read.

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CHAPTER XII.
Journal, yanuarv I. — Mr. Blackwood sent me a note enclos-

i86j. .

mg a letter from Montalembert about " Silas Marner."
I began again my navel of ^' Romola"
Letter to It is not Unlikely that our thoughts and wishes met
greve, 7th about New-year's Day, for I was only prevented from
writing to you in that week by the fear of saying de-
cidedly that we could not go to you, and yet finding
afterwards that a clear sky, happening to coincide
with an absence of other hinderances, would have made
that pleasure possible for us. I think we believe in
each other's thorough affection, and need not dread
misunderstanding. But you must not write again, as
you did in one note, a sort of apology for coming to
us when you were tired, as if we didn't like to see you
anyhow and at any time ! And we especially like to
think that our house can be a rest to you.

For the first winter in my life I am hardly ever free
frpm cold. As soon as one has departed with the
usual final stage of stuf&ness, another presents itself
with the usual introduction of sore throat. And Mr.
Lewes just now is a little ailing. But we have noth-
ing serious to complain of.

You seemed to me so bright and brave the last
time I saw you, that I have had cheerful thoughts of
you ever since. Write to me always when anything
happens to you, either pleasant or sad, that there is

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i862.] Affection for Mrs. Congreve. 239

no reason for my not knowing, so that we may not Letter to
spend long weeks in wondering how all things aregrevc^h'

.. Jan. 1863.

With you.

And do come to us whenever you can, without car-
ing about my going to you, for this is too difficult for
me in chill and doubtful weather. Are you not look-
ing anxiously for the news from America ?

As for the brain being useless after fifty, that is no Letter to
general rule; witness the good and hard work that 13th Jan. *
has been done in plenty after that age. I wish I could
be inspired with just the knowledge that would enable
me to be of some good to you. I feel so ignorant
and helpless. The year is opening happily for us,
except — alas ! the exception is a great one — ^in the
way of health. Mr. Lewes is constantly ailing, like a
delicate headachy woman. But we have abundant
blessings.

I hope you are able to enjoy Max Miiller^s great Letter to

1 1 , . / r , , , , . . . ^ Miss Sara

and delightful book during your imprisonment. ItHenneii,
tempts me away from other things. I have read most 1862.
of the numbers of " Orley Farm," and admire it very
much, with the exception of such parts as I have read '
about Moulder & Co. Anthony Trollope is admirable
in the presentation of even average life and character,
and he is so thoroughly wholesome-minded that one
delights in seeing his books lie about to be read.
Have you read " Beata " yet — the first novel written
by his brother at Florence, who is our especial favor-
ite ? Do read it when you can, if the opportunity has
not already come. I am going to be taken to a panto-
mime in the daytime, like a good child, for a Christmas
treat, not having had my fair share of pantomime in
the world.

Jan, 18 (Saturday). — ^^Ve had an agreeable evening. 1^2? '

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240 G. Smith and ^^RomolaJ* [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Journal, Mr. Burton* and Mr. Clark' of Cambridge made an
1863. , , . .

acceptable variety m our party.

yan, 19-20. — Head very bad — producing terrible
depression.

yan, 23. — ^Wrote again, feeling in brighter spirits.
Mr. Smith the publisher called and had an interview
with G. He asked if I were open to " a magnificent
offer." This made me think about money — but it is
better for me not to be rich.

yan, 26 (Sunday). — Detained from writing by the
necessity of gathering particulars : ist, about Lorenzo
de Medici's death ; 2d, about the possible retardation
of Easter ; 3d, about Corpus Christi day ; 4th, about
Savonarola's preaching in the Quaresima of 1492.
Finished " La Mandragola " — ^second time reading for
the sake of Florentine expressions — and began " La
Calandra."

yan, 31. — Have been reading some entries in my
note -book of past times in which I recorded my
malaise and despair. But it is impossible to me to
believe that I have ever been in so unpromising and
despairing a state as I now feel. After writing these
words I read to G. the Proem and opening scene of
my novel, and he exgressed great delight in them.
Letter to I was taken to see my pantomime. How pretty it
HenneU, is to scc the theatre full of children ! Ah, what I

3d Feb. '

1863. should have felt in my real child days to have been

^ Now Sir Frederic Burton, Director of the National Gallery,
to whom we are indebted for the drawing of George Eliot now in
the National Portrait Gallery, South Kensington, and who was a
very intimate and valued friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lewes.

' Mr. W. G. Clark, late Public Orator at Cambridge, well known
as a scholar, and for his edition of Shakspeare in conjunction
with Mr. Aldis Wright.

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i862.] Writing and Music. 241

let into the further history of Mother Hubbard and Letter to

, T^ , Miss Sara

her Dog ! Hennell,

George Stephenson is one of my great heroes — ^has ?86a.' *
he not a dear old face ?

I think yours is the instinct of all delicate natures Letter to
— not to speak to authors about their writings. It is T^m.^l
better for us all to hear as little about ourselves as * * '
possible ; to do our work faithfully, and be satisfied
with the certainty that if it touches many minds, it
cannot touch them in a way quite aloof from our in-
tention and hope.

Feb. 7. — A week of February already gone ! I have journal,
been obliged to be very moderate in work from feeble-
ness of head and body ; but I have rewritten, with
additions, the first chapter of my book.

I am wondering whether you could sparQ» me^for a Letter to
few weeks, the Tempest music, and any other vocal sth^Feb*^*
music of that or of a kindred species ? I don't want '
to buy it until our singers have experimented upon it.
Don't think of sending me anything that you are using
at all, but if said music be lying idle, I should be
grateful for the loan. We have several operas — Don
Giovanni, Figaro, the Barbiere, Flauto Magico, and
also the music of Macbeth ; but I think that is all our
stock of concerted vocal music. *

Feb, II. — We set off to Dorking. The day was journal,
lovely, and we walked through Mr. Hope's park to
Betchworth. In the evening I read aloud Sybel's
" Lectures on the Crusades."

Feb, 12.— The day was gray, but the air was fresh
and pleasant. We walked to Wootton Park — Evelyn's
Wootton — lunched at a little roadside inn there, and
returned to Dorking to dine. During stay at Dorking
finished the first twelve cantos of Pulci.
II.— II

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242 The War in America. [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Feb, 13. — Returned home.
Letter to I think it is a reasonable law that the one who takes
Bodkhoo, wing should be the first to write — not the bird that
!86a. ' ' stays in the old cage, and may be supposed to be eat-
ing the usual seed and groundsel, and looking at the
same slice of the world through the same wires.
/ I think the highest and best thing is rather to suffer
f with real suffering than to be happy in the imagina-
tion of an unreal good. I would rather know that the
\ beings I love are in some trouble, and suffer because
of it, even though I can't help them, than be fancying
them happy when they are not so, and making myself
comfortable on the strength of that false belief. And
so I am impatient of all ignorance and concealment.
I don't say " that is wise," but simply " that is my
nature." I can enter into what you have felt, for seri-
ous illness, such as seems to bring death near, makes
one feel the simple human brother and sisterhood so
strongly that those we were apt to think almost indif-
ferent to us before, touch the very quick of our hearts.
I suppose if we happened only to hold the hand of a
hospital patient when she was dying, her face, and all
the memories along with it, would seem to lie deeper
in our experience than all we knew of many old friends
and blood relations.

We have had no troubles but the public troubles —
anxiety about the war with America and sympathy
with the poor Queen. My best consolation is that an
example on so tremendous a scale (as the war) of the
need for the education of mankind through the affec-
tions and sentiments, as a basis for true development,
will have a strong influence on all thinkers, and be a
check to the arid, narrow antagonism which, in some
quarters, is held to be the only form of liberal thought.

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i862.] Depression in Writing. 243

George has fairly begun what we have long contem- utter to

, ^ . 7 ^. ^^. 7^ . Madame

plated as a happiness for him — a History of Science, Bodichoo,
and has written so thorough an analysis and investi- ls62.
gation of Aristotle's Natural Science that he feels it
will make an epoch for the men who are interested at
once in the progress of modern science and in the
question how far Aristotle went both in the observa-
tion of facts and in their theoretic combination — a
question never yet cleared up after all these ages.
This work makes him " very jolly," but his dear face
looks very pale and narrow. Those only can thor-
oughly feel the meaning of death who know what is
perfect love.

God bless you — that is not a false word, however
many false ideas may have been hidden under it.
No — ^not false ideas, but temporary ones — caterpil-
lars and chrysalids of future ideas.

Feb* 17. — I have written only the two first chapters Joumai,
of my novel besides the Proem, and I have an op-
pressive sense of the far-stretching task before me,
health being feeble just now. I have lately read again
with great delight Mrs. Browning's " Casa Guidi Win-
dows." It contains, amongst other admirable things, a
very noble expression of what I believe to be the true
relation of the religious mind to the past.

Feb, 26. — I have been very ailing all this last week,
and have worked under impeding discouragement. I
have a distrust in myself, in my work, in others' lov-
ing acceptance of it, which robs my otherwise happy
life of all joy. I ask myself, without being able to
answer, whether I have ever before felt so chilled and
oppressed. I have written now about sixty pages of
my romance. Will it ever be finished t Ever be worth
anything ?

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244 Proposition for ^^Romola'' [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Journal, Feb, 27. — GeoFgc Smith, the publisher, brought the
proof of G.'s book, "Animal Studies," and laid before
him a proposition to give me ;^i 0,000 for my new
novel — />., for its appearance in the Comhill^ and the
entire copyright at home and abroad.

March i. — ^The idea of my novel appearing in the

Comhill is given up, as G. Smith wishes to have it

commenced in May, and I cannot consent to begin

publication until I have seen nearly to the end of the

work.

Letter Jo We had agreeable weather until yesterday, which

i^wea, was wet and blustering, so that we could only snatch

March, two short walks. Pater is better, I think: and I, as

i86j. from ' ' '

Eng^eW usual, am impudently flourishing in country air and
idleness. On Friday Mr. Bone, our landlord, drove
us out in his pony carriage to see the " meet " of the
stag-hounds, and on Saturday ditto to see the fox-
hunters; so you perceive we have been leading rather
a grand life.

Journal, March II. — On Wednesday last, the 5th, G, and I
set off to Englefield Green, where we have spent a de-
lightful week at the Barley Mow Inn. I have finished
Pulci there, and read aloud the " Chite^u dlf."

Letter to We returned from our flight into the country yes-
Miss sara ... .,, .
Henneii, tcrday, not without a sigh at parting with the pure air

March, and the notes of the blackbirds for the usual canopy
of smoke and the sound of cab-wheels. I am not go-
ing out again, and our life will have its old routine —
lunch at half-past one, walk till four, dinner at fis^.

Journal, March 24. — After enjoying our week at Egham, I
returned to protracted headache. Last Saturday we
received as usual, and our party was joined by Mr.
and Mrs. Noel. I have begun the fourth chapter of
my novel, but have been working under a weight.

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i862.] George Peabodys Gift. 245

I congratulate you on being out of London, which Letter to
is more like a pandemonium than usual. The fog and HenneU,
rain have been the more oppressive because I have March,
seen them through Mr. Lewes's almost constant dis- '
comfort. I think he has had at least five days of sick
headache since you saw him. But then he is better
tempered and more cheerful with headache than most
people are without it; and in that way he lightens
his burden. Have you noticed in the Times Mr. Pea-
body's magnificent deed? — the gift of ;^i5o,ooo for
the amelioration (body and. soul, I suppose) of the
poorer classes in London. That is a pleasant asso-
ciation to have with an American name.

April I. — Much headache this last week. journal,

April 2, — Better this morning; writing with enjoy-'
ment. At the seventy-seventh page. Read Juvenal
this morning and Nisard.

April 16. — As I had been ailing for a fortnight or
more, we resolved to go to Dorking, and set off to-day.

May 6. — We returned from Dorking after a stay
of three weeks, during which we have had delicious
weather.

Our life is the old accustomed duet this month. Letter to
We enjoy an interval of our double solitude. Doesn't m!5,x863.'
the spring look lovelier every year to eyes that want
more and more light? It was rather saddening to
leave the larks and all the fresh leaves to come back
to the rolling of cabs and " the blacks ;" but in com-
pensation we have all our conveniences about us.

May 23. — Since I wrote last, very important deci- Journal,
sions have been made. I am to publish my novel
of " Romola " in the Comhill Magazine for j^yooo,
paid in twelve monthly payments. There has been
the regret of leaving Blackwood, who has written me

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246 Work not Progressing. [16 Blandford Sq..

joona], a letter in the most perfect spirit of gentlemanliness
and good-feeling.

May 27. — Mr. Helps, Mr. Burton, and Mr. T. A.
Trollope dined iivdth us.

^May ^i, — Finished the second part, extending to
page 183.

yum 30. — I have at present written only the scene
between Romola and her brother in San Marco to-
wards Part IV. This morning I had a delightful,
generous letter from Mr. Anthony Trollope about
" Romola."

yuiy 6. — ^Thc past week has been unfruitful from
various causes. The consequence is that I am no
further on in my MS., and have lost the excellent
start my early completion of the third part had given
me.

yuly 10. — A dreadful palsy has beset me for the last
few days. I have scarcely made any progress. Yet
I have been very well in body. I have been reading
a book often referred to by Hallam — Meiners's " Lives
of Mirandula and Politian." They are excellent. They
have German industry, and are succinctly and clearly
written.
Letter to Imagine me — not fuming in imperfect resignation
Henneii, uudcr Londou smokc, but — with the wide sky of the

ijth Sept. , , ^ . , \

i86a. from coast abovc mc, and every comfort positive and nega-

LJttle- . , ' , , r .

hampton. tivc around me, even to the absence of staring eyes
and crinolines. Worthing was so full that it rejected
us, and, to our great good-fortune, sent us here. We
were pleased to hear that you had seen Mr. Spencer.
We always feel him particularly welcome when he
comes back to town; there is no one like him for
talking to about certain things.
You will come and dine or walk with us whenever

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i862.] Trip to Littlehampton, 247

you have nothing better to do in your visit to town. I
take that for granted. We lie, you know, on the way
between the Exhibition and Mr. Noel's.

Sept, 23. — Returned from our stay in the country, Journal,
first at the Beach Hotel, Littlehampton, and for the '
last three days at Dorking.

Sept, 26. — At page 62, Part VI. Yesterday a letter
came from Mr. T. A. Trollope, full of encouragement
for me. Ebenezer,

Oct. 2. — At page 85. Scene between Tito and
Romola.

Welcome to your letter, and welcome to the hope Letter to

r • • . T t. . ^^ Mra-Con-

of seeing you again ! I have an engagement on Mon-greve, ad
day from lunch till dinner. Apart from that, I know
of nothing that will take us farther than for our daily
walk, which, you know, begins at two. But we will
alter the order of any day for the sake of seeing you.
Mr. Lewes's absence of a fortnight at Spa was a great
success. He has been quite brilliant ever since. Ten
days ago we returned from a stay of three weeks in
the country— chiefly at Littlehampton, and we are both
very well. Everything is prosperous with us ; and we
are so far from griefs that if we had a wonderful em-
erald ring we should perhaps be wise to throw it away
as a propitiation of the envious gods.

So much in immediate reply to your kind anxiety.
Everything else when we meet.

Oct, 31. — Finished Part VIL, having determined to Journal,
end at the point where Romola has left Florence.

Nov, 14. — Finished reading "Boccaccio" through
for the second time.

Nov, 17.— Read the "Orfeo and Stanze" of Poli-
ziano. The latter are wonderfully fine for a youth of
sixteen. They contain a description of a Palace of

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248 Monday Popular Concerts. [16 Blandford Sq.,

Venus, which seems the suggestion of Tennyson's
Palace of Art in many points.
Letter to I wish I knew that this birthday has found you
Henneii, happier than any that went before. There are so
186a. ' many things — ^best things — ^that only come when youth
is past that it may well happen to many of us to find
ourselves happier and happier to the last. We have
been to a Monday Pop. this week to hear Beethoven's
Septett, and an amazing thing of Bach's, played by
the amazing Joachim. But there is too much "Pop."
for the thorough enjoyment of the chamber music they
give. You will be interested to know that there is a
new muster of scientific and philosophic men lately
established, for the sake of bringing people who care
to know and speak the truth, as well as they can, into
regular communication. Mr. Lewes was at the first
meeting at Clunn's Hotel on Friday last. The plan
is to meet and dine moderately and cheaply, and no
one is to be admitted who is not " thorough " in the
sense of being free from the suspicion of temporizing
and professing opinions on official grounds. The
plan was started at Cambridge. Mr. Huxley is presi-
dent and Charles Kingsley is vice. If they are suf-
ficiently rigid about admissions, the club may come to
good — bringing together men who think variously, but
have more hearty feelings in common than they give
each other credit for. Mr. Robert Chambers (who
lives in London now) is very warm about the matter.
Mr. Spencer, too, is a member.
Letter to Pray don't ever ask me again not to rob a man of
Bodichon, his religious belief, as if you thought my mind tended

26th Nov. , , , Tt. X r ,

1862. to such robbery. I have too profound a conviction of
the efficacy that lies in all sincere faith, and the spir-
itual blight that comes with no faith, to have any neg-

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i862.] First Visit from Browning, 249

ative propagandism in me. In fact I have very little Letter to
sympathy with Freethinkers as a class, and have lost Bodichon,

„ . . . ,. . , . 36th Nov.

all mterest m mere antagonism to religious doctrines. i86a.
I care only to know, if possible, the lasting meaning
that lies in all religious doctrine from the beginning
till now. That speech of Carlyle's,* which sounds so
odious, must, I think, have been provoked by some-
thing in the manner of the statement to which it came
as an answer— else it would hurt me very much that
he should have uttered it.

You left a handkerchief at our house. I will take
care of it till next summer. I look forward with some
longing to that time when I shall have lightened my
soul of one chief thing I wanted to do, and be freer
to think and feel about other people's work. We
shall see you oftener, I hope, and have a great deal
more talk than ever we have had before to make
amends for our stinted enjoyment of you this summer.

God bless you, dear Barbara. You are very precious

to us.

Nov. 30 (Sunday). — Finished Part VIII. Mr. Bur- journal,

1862.
ton came.

Dec, 16. — In the evening Browning paid us a visit
for the first time.

Dec. 17. — At page 2 2 only. I am extremely spiritless,
dead, and hopeless about my writing. The long state
of headache has left mc in depression and incapacity.
The constantly heavy-clouded and often wet weather
tend to increase the depression. I am inwardly irri-
table, and unvisited by good thoughts. Reading the
" Purgatorio " again, and the " Compendium Revela-

^ Some general remark of Carlyle*s — Madame Bodichon cannot
remember exactly what it was.

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250 Christmas Offering. [i6 Blandford Sq.,

joamau tionum " of Savonarola. After this record I read
1862.

aloud what I had written of Part IX. to George, and

he, to my surprise, entirely approved of it.

Dec. 24. — Mrs. F. Malleson brought me a beautiful

plant as a Christmas offering. In the evening we

went to hear the Messiah at Her Majesty's Theatre.

Letter to I am very sensitive to words and looks and all signs

Tavior, of Sympathy, so you may be sure that your kind wishes

i86a. are not lost upon me.

As you will have your house full, the wish for a
" Merry Christmas " may be literally fulfilled for you.
We shall be quieter, with none but our family trio,
but that is always a happy one. We are going to
usher in the day by hearing the Messiah to-night at
Her Majesty's.

Evening will be a pleasanter time for a little genial
talk than " calling hours ;" and if you will come to us
without ceremony, you will hardly run the risk of not
finding us. We go nowhere except to concerts.

We are longing to run away from London, but I
dare say we shall not do so before March. Winter is
probably yet to come, and one would not like to be
caught by frost and snow away from one's own hearth.
Always believe, without my saying it, that it glad-
dens me to know when anything I do has value for
you.
letter to It is very sweet to me to have any proof of loving
Henneii, remembrance. That would have made the book-mark-

26th Dec

x86a. er precious even if it had been ugly. But it is per-
fectly beautiful — in color, words, and symbols. Hith-
erto I have been discontented with the Coventry book-
marks ; for at the shop where we habitually see them
they have all got—" Let the people praise Thee, O
God," on them, and nothing.else. But I can think of

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i862.] Poetry of Christianity. 251

no motto better than those three words. I suppose Letter to

'^ Miss Sara

no wisdom the world will ever find out will make PauPs Henneii,
words obsolete — " Now abide, etc., but the greatest of i86a.
these is Charity." Our Christmas, too, has been quiet.
Mr. Lewes, who talks much less about goodness than
I do, but is always readier to do the right thing, thinks
it rather wicked for us to eat our turkey and plum-
pudding without asking some forlorn person to eat it.
with us. But I'm afraid we were glad, after all, to find
ourselves alone with " the boy." On Christmas-eve a
sweet woman, remembering me as you have done, left
a beautiful plant at the door, and after that we went
to hear the Messiah at Her Majesty's. We felt a con-
siderable minus from the absence of the organ, con-
trary to advertisement : nevertheless it was good to
be there. What pitiable people those are who feel no
poetry in Christianity! Surely the acme of poetry
hitherto is the conception of the suffering Messiah
and the final triumph, " He shall reign for ever and
for ever." The Prometheus is a very imperfect fore-
shadowing of that symbol wrought out in the long
history of the Jewish and Christian ages.

Mr. Lewes arid I have both been in miserable health
during all this month. I have had a fortnight's in-
cessant malaise and feebleness; but as I had had
many months of tolerable health, it was my turn to be
uncomfortable. If my book-marker were just a little
longer, I should keep it in my beautiful Bible in large
print, which Mr. Lewes bought for me in prevision for
my old age. He is not fond of reading the Bible him-
self, but " sees no harm " in my reading it.

I am not quite sure what you mean by " charity " Letter to

i7 . 1 , -rr 1 . , the Brays,

when you call it humbug. If you mean that attitude a9th Dec.
of mind which says " I forgive my fellow-men for not

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252 Optniotis of ''Roniolay [i6 Blandford Sq..

Letter to being as good as I am," I agree with you in hoping

39th De^ that it will vanish, as also the circumstantial form of
alms-giving. But if you are alluding to anything in my
letter, I meant what charity meant in the elder Eng-
lish, and what the translators of the Bible meant in
their rendering of the thirteenth chapter of ist Corin-
thians — CaritaSj the highest love or fellowship, which
I am happy to believe that no philosophy will expel
from the world.

jounui, Dec, 31 (Last day of the kind old year). — Clear and
pleasantly mild. Yesterday a pleasant message from
Mr. Hannay about " Romola." We have had many
blessings this year. Opportunities which have ena-
bled us to acquire an abundant independence; the
satisfactory progress of our two eldest boys ; various
grounds of happiness in our work ; and ever-growing
happiness in each other. I hope with trembling that
the coming year may be as comforting a retrospect — -•
with trembling because my work is not yet done. Be-
sides the finishing of "Romola," we have to think of
Thornie's passing his final examination, and, in case
of success, his going out to India ; of Bertie's leaving
Hofwyl, and of our finding a new residence. I have
had more than my average amount of comfortable
health until this last month, in which I have been con-
stantly ailing, and my work has suffered proportion-
ately.

Letter to The letter with the one word in it, like a whisper

Miss Sara , , , , ' , '^

HenneiJ, of Sympathy, lay on my plate when I went down to
1863. lunch this morning. The generous movement that
made you send it has gladdened me all day. I have
had a great deal of pretty encouragement from im-
mense big-wigs — some of them saying " Romola " is
the finest book they ever read; but the opinion of

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1S63.] Miss Cobbe and Mrs. Sicnve, 253

big-wigs has one sort of value, and the fellow-feeling utter to
of a long known friend has another. One can't do Henneii,
quite wefl without both. En revanche, I am a feeble J^^'
wretch, with eyes that threaten to get bloodshot on
the slightest provocation. We made a rush to Dork-
ing for a day or two, and the quiet and fresh air
seemed to make a new creature of me ; but when we
get back to town, town sensations return.

That scheme of a sort of Philosophical Club that I Lc««»:,to

Miss Sara

told you of went to pieces before it was finished, like ^5*^*"'.
a house of cards. So it will be to the end, I fancy, >863.
with all attempts at combinations that are not based
either on material interests or on opinions that are
not merely opinions but religion. Doubtless you have
been interested in the Colenso correspondence, and
perhaps in Miss Cobbe's rejoinder to Mrs. Stowe's re-
monstrating answer to the womien of England. I was
glad to see how free the answer was from all tartness
or conceit Miss Cobbe's introduction to the new
edition of Theodore Parker is also very honorable to
her — a little too metaphorical here and there, but with
real thought and good feeling.

It is a comfort to hear of you again, and to know Letter to

1 , , .Mrs. Con-

that there is no serious trouble to mar the spring greve, i8th

weather for you. I must carry that thought as my
consolation for not seeing you on Tuesday — not quite
a sufficient consolation, for my eyes desire you very
much after these long months of almost total separa-
tion. The reason I cannot have that pleasure on
Tuesday is that, according to a long arranged plan, I
am going on Monday to Dorking again for a fortnight.
I should be still more vexed to miss you if I were in
better condition, but at present I am rather like a
shell-less lobster, and inclined to creep out of sight.

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254 Flight to Dorking. [i6 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to I shall writc to you, or try to see you, as soon as I
greye, i8th can after my return. I wish you could have told me

April, 1863.

of a more decided return to ordinary health in Mr.
Congreve, but I am inclined to hope that the lectur-
ing may rather benefit than injure him, by being a
moral tonic. How much there is for us to talk about I
But only to look at dear faces that one has seen so
little of for a long while seems reason enough for
wanting to meet: Mr. Lewes is better than usual just
now, and you must not suppose that there is anything
worse the matter with me than you have been used to
seeing in me. Please give my highest regards to Mr.
Congreve, and love to Emily, who, I hope, has quite
got back the roses which had somewhat paled. My
pen straggles as if it had a stronger will than I.
Letter to Glad vou enjoycd " Esmond." It is a fine book.

Charles L. ^. ' , \^ , , . . , . . ,

Lewes, Smcc you have been interested m the historical sug-

aSth April, . -^ , , , r,,, , , .. -r

1863, from gestions, I recommend you to read Thackeray's " Lect-
ures on the English Humorists," which are all about
the men of the same period. There is a more exag-
gerated estimate of Swift and Addison than is im-
plied in " Esmond ;" and the excessive laudation of
men who are considerably below the tip-top of human
nature, both in their lives and genius, rather vitiates
the Lectures, which are otherwise admirable, and are
delightful reading.

The wind is high and cold, making the sunshine
seem hard and unsympathetic.

Journal, May 6. — We have just returned from Dorking,
whither I went a fortnight ago to have solitude while
George took his journey to Hofwyl to see Bertie.
The weather was severely cold for several days of my
stay, and I was often ailing. That has been the way
with me for a month and more, and in consequence I

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1863.] Strain of Writing '^Romolar 255

am backward with my July number of " Romola " — Journal, .

the last part but one.

I remember my wife telling me, at Witley, how
craelly she had suffered at Dorking from working
under a leaden weight at this time. The writing
of " Romola " ploughed into her more than any of
her other books. She told me she could put her
finger on it as marking a well-defined transition in
her life. In her own words, " I began it a young
woman — I finished it an old woman."

Yes! we shall be in town in June. Your coming Letter to

would be reason good enough, but we have others — Bodkhon,

1 . /I 1 « .It -I ***** May,

chiefly, that we are up to the ears in boydom and 1863.
imperious parental duties. All is as happy and pros-
perous with us as heart can lawfully desire, except my
health. I have been a mere wretch for several months
past. You will come to me like the morning sunlight, |
and make me a little less of a flaccid cabbage-plant.

It is a very pretty life you are leading at Hastings,
with your painting all morning, and fair mothers and
children to look at the rest of the day.

I am terribly frightened about Mrs. . She

wrote to me, telling me that we were sure to suit each
other, neither of us holding the opinions of the Moutons
de Panurge, Nothing could have been more decisive
of the opposite prospect to me. If there is one atti-
tude more odious to me than any other of the many
attitudes of " knowingness," it is that air of lofty su-
periority to the vulgar. However, she will soon find
out that I am a very commonplace woman.

May 16.— Finished Part XIII. Killed Tito in Journal,

1863.
great excitement.

May 18.— Began Part XIV.— the last ! Yesterday

George saw Count Arrivabene, who wishes to trans-

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256 ''Romola'' Finished. [16 Blandford Sq.,

late " Romola," and says the Italians are indebted to
me.
Letter to Health secms, to those who want it, enough to
ist June, * make daylight a gladness. But the explanation of
evils is never consoling except to the explainer. We
are just as we were, thinking about the questionable
house (The Priory), and wondering what would be
the right thing to do ; hardly liking to lock up any
money in land and bricks, and yet frightened lest we
should not get a quiet place just when we want it.
But I dare say we shall have it after all.
Journal, yum 6. — We had a little evening party with music,
intended to celebrate the completion of " Romola,"
which, however, is not absolutely completed, for I have
still to alter the epilogue.

June 9.— Put the last stroke to "Romola." Ebe-
nezerl Went in the evening to hear La G2LZza. Ladra.

The manuscript of " Romola " bears the follow-
ing inscription :
" To the Husband whose perfect love has been the
best source of her insight and strength, this manu-
script is given by his devoted wife, the writer."

Letter to How impossible it is for strong, healthy people to
Henneii, Understand the way in which bodily maiaise and suf-
I863. ""** fering eats at the root of one's life ! The philosophy
that is true — the religion that is strength to the
healthy — is constantly emptiness to one when the
head is distracted and every sensation is oppressive.
Journal, yune 1 6, — Gcorge and I set oflE to-day to the Isle
of Wight, where we had a delightful holiday. On Fri-
day, the 19th, we settled for a week at Niton, which,
I think, is the prettiest place in all the island. On
the following Friday we went on to Freshwater, and

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1863.] Trip to the Isle of Wight, 257

failed, from threatening rain, in an attempt to walk to journal,
Alum Bay, so that we rather repented of our choice. * '*
The consolation was that we shall know better than
to go to Freshwater another time. On the Saturday
morning we drove to Ryde, and remained there until
Monday the 29th.

Your letter was a welcome addition to our sunshine Letter to
this Sabbath morning. For in this particular we seem Henneii,
to have been more fortunate than you, having had al- 1863.
most constant sunshine since we arrived at Sandown,
on Tuesday evening.

This place is perfect, reminding me of Jersey, in its
combination of luxuriant greenth with the delights of
a sandy beach. At the end of our week, if the weather
is warmer, we shall go on to Freshwater for our re-
maining few days. But the wind at present is a little
colder than one desires it, when the object is to get
rid of a cough, and unless it gets milder we shall go
back to Shanklin. I am enjoying the hedge -row
grasses and flowers with something like a released
prisoner's feeling — it is so long since I had a bit of
real English country.

I am very happy in my holiday, finding quite a Letter to

Charles L.

fresh charm in the hedge-row grasses and flowers after Lewes,
my long banishment from them. We have a flower- 1863.
garden just round us, and then a sheltered grassy
walk, on which the sun shines through the best part
of the day ; and then a wide meadow, and beyond
that trees and the sea. Moreover, our landlady has
cows, and we get the quintessence of cream^xcellent
bread and butter also, and a young lady, with a large
crinoline, to wait upon us — all for 255". per week ; or,
rather, we get the apartment in which we enjoy those
primitive and modern blessings for that moderate sum.

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258 Theatre-going. [16 Blandford Sq.,

Journal, July 4, — ^Went to see Ristori in Adrienne Lecouv-
•^* reur and did not like it I have had hemicrania for
several days, and have been almost idle since my re-
turn home,
letter to Constant languor from the new heat has made me

Miss Sara . ^

Hcnneii, shirk all exertion not imperative. And just now
"863. ' there are not only those excitements of the season,
which even we quiet people get our share of, but
there is an additional boy to be cared for — ^Thomie,
who is this week passing his momentous examination.
A pretty thing has happened to an acquaintance of
mine, which is quite a tonic to one's hope. She has
all her life been working hard in various ways, as
house-keeper, governess, and several et ceteras that
I can't think of at this moment — a dear little dot>
about four feet eleven in height ; pleasant to look at,
and clever; a working -woman, without any of those
epicene queernesses that belong to the class. Her
life has been a history of family troubles, and she has
that susceptible nature which makes such troubles
hard to bear. More than once she has told me that
courage quite forsook her. She felt as if there were
no good in living and striving ; it was difficult to dis-
cern or believe in any results for others, and there
seemed none worth having for herself. Well ! a man
of fortune and accomplishments has just fallen in love
with her, now she is thirty-three. It is the prettiest
story of a swift decided passion, and made me cry for
joy. Madame Bodichon and I went with her to buy
her wedding -clothes. The future husband is also
thirty- three — old enough to make his selection an
honor. Fond of travelling and science and other
good things, such as a man deserves to be fond of
who chooses a poor woman in the te.eth of grand rela-

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1863.] operatic Motives. 259

tives : brought up a Unitarian, just turned Catholic. Letter to

T- .,,,.. 1 . -r 1 .1 Miss Sara

If you Will only imagine everything I have not said, HenncU,

.„ t . , , . , . .. . , 'nth July,

you will think this a very charming fairy tale. 1863.

We are going this evening to see the French actress
in Juliet (Stella Colas), who is astonishing the town.
Last week we saw Ristori, the other night heard the
Faust, and next week we are going to hear the Elisir
d'Amore and Faust again ! So you see we are trying
to get some compensation for the necessity of living
among bricks in this sweet summer time. I can bear
the opera better than any other evening entertain-
ment, because the house is airy and the stalls are
comfortable. The opera is a great, great product —
pity we can't always have fine Weltgeschichtliche dramat-
ic motives wedded with fine music, instead of triviali-
ties or hideousnesses. Perhaps this last is too strong
a word for anything except the Traviata. Rigoletto
is unpleasant, but it is a superlatively fine tragedy in
the Nemesis. I think I don't know a finer.

We are really going to buy the Priory after all.
You would think it very pretty if you saw it now, with
the roses blooming about it.

July 12. — I am now in the middle of G.'s "Aristotle," journal,
which gives me great delight.

July 23. — Reading Mommsen and Story's " Roba
di Roma ;" also Liddell's " Rome," for a narrative to
accompany Mommsen's analysis.

' July 29. — In the evening we went to Covent Gar-
den to hear Faust for the third time. On our return
we found a letter from Frederick Maurice — the great-
est, most generous tribute ever given to me in my life.*

I have wanted for several days to make some fee-

' I regret that I have not been able to find this letter.

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26o Renans ''Vie de Jesus'' [i6 Blandford Sq..

Letter to blc sign in writing that I think of your trouble. But
Ta*5or, ' one claim after another has arisen as a hinderance.
S3. ^' Conceive us, please, with three boys at home, all big-
ger than their father I It is a congestion of youthful-
ness on our mature brains that disturbs the course of
our lives a little, and makes us think of most things
as good to be deferred till the boys are settled again.
I tell you so much to make you understand that
"omission" is not with me equivalent to "neglect,"
and that I do care for what happens to you.

Renan is a favorite with me. I fe^l more kinship
with his mind than with that of any other living French
author. But I think I shall not do more than look
through the Introduction to his " Vie de J&us " — ^un-
less I happen to be more fascinated by the construc-
tive part than I expect to be from the specimens I
have seen. For minds acquainted with the European
culture of this last half-century, Kenan's book can
furnish no new result ; and they are likely to set little
store by the too facile construction of a life from ma-
terials of which the biographical significance becomes
more dubious as they are more closely examined. It
seems to me the soul of Christianity lies not at all in
the facts of an individual life, but in the ideas of which
that life was the meeting-point and the new starting-
point. We can never have a satisfactory basis for the
history of the man Jesus, but that negation does not
affect the Idea of the Christ either in its historical
influence or its great symbolic meanings. Still, such
books as Renan's have their value in helping the
popular imagination to feel that the sacred past is of
one woof with that human present, which ought to be
sacred too.

You mention Renan in your note, and the mention

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i863.] Letter on ^'Romolay 261

has sent me off into rather gratuitous remarks, you Letter to

•r^ , 1 t, 1 . , . Mrs. Peter

perceive. But such scrappy talk about great subjects xaWor,
may have a better excuse than usual, if it just serves 1863. "
to divert your mind from the sad things that must be
importuning you now.
After reading your article on " Romola," with care- Letter to

r % e 1 • , R.H. Hut'

ful reference to the questions you put to me in your ton, sth
letter, I can answer sincerely that I find nothing fan-
ciful in your interpretation. On the contrary, I am
confirmed in the satisfaction I felt, when I first list-
ened to the article, at finding that certain chief ele-
ments of my intention have impressed themselves so
strongly on your mind, notwithstanding the imperfect
degree in which I have been able to give form to my
ideas. Of course, if I had been called on to expound
my own book, there are other things that I should
want to say, or things that I should say somewhat oth-
erwise ; but I can point to nothing in your exposition
of which my consciousness tells me that it is errone-
ous, in the sense of saying something which I nei-
ther thought nor felt. You have seized with a fulness
which I had hardly hoped that my book could sug-
gest, what it was my effort to express in the presenta-
tion of Bardo and Baldasarre ; and also the relation
of the Florentine political life to the development of
Tito's nature. Perhaps even a judge so discerning
as yourself could not infer from the imperfect result
how strict a self-control and selection were exercised
in the presentation of details. I believe there is
scarcely a phrase, an incident, an allusion, that did
not gather its value to me from its supposed subser-
vience to my main artistic objects. But it is likely
enough that my mental constitution would always ren-
der the issue of my labor something excessive — want-

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262 Artistic Vision. [i6 Blandford Sq.,

letter to ing due proportion. It is the habit of nay imagination
ton, 8th 'to strive after as full a vision of the medium in which
*** ' a character moves as of the character itself. The
psychological causes which prompted me to give such
details of Florentine life and history as I have given,
^ are precisely the same as those which determined me
in giving the details of English village life in " Silas
Marner," or the " Dodson " life, out of which were
developed the destinies of poor Tom and Maggie.
But you have correctly pointed out the reason why
my tendency to excess in this effort after artistic vi-
sion makes the impression of a fault in *' Romola " much
more perceptibly than in my previous books. And I
am not surprised at your dissatisfaction with Romola
herself. I can well believe that the many difficulties
belonging to the treatment of such a character have
not been overcome, and that I have failed to bring out
my conception with adequate fulness. I am sorry she
has attracted you so little ; for the great problem of
her life, which essentially coincides with a chief prob-
lem in Savonarola's, is one that readers need helping
to understand. But with regard to that and to my
whole book, my predominant feeling is — not that I
have achieved anything, but — that great, great facts
have struggled to find a voice through me, and have
only been able to speak brokenly. That conscious-
ness makes me cherish the more any proof that my
work has been seen to have some true significance by
minds prepared not simply by instruction, but by that
religious and moral sympathy with the historical life
of man which is the larger half of culture,
jcmmai, Aug, lo. — Went to Worthing. A sweet letter from
Mrs. Hare, wife of Julius Hare, and Maurice's sister.
Aug, i8. — Returned home much invigorated by the

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1863.] London Depression, 263

week of change, but my spirits seem to droop as usual
now I am in London again.

I was at Worthing when your letter came, spending Letter to
all my daylight hours out-of-doors, and trying with all Bodichon,
my might to get health and cheerfulness. I will tell 1863.
you the true reason why I did not go to Hastings.
I thought you would be all the better for not having
that solicitation of your kindness that the fact of my
presence there might have caused. What you needed
was precisely to get away from people to whom you
would inevitably want to be doing something friendly,
instead of giving yourself up to passive enjoyment.
Else, of course, I should have liked everything you
write about and invite me to.

We only got home last night, and I suppose we
shall hardly be able to leave town again till after the
two younger boys have left us, and after we have
moved into the new house.

Since I saw you I have had some sweet woman's
tenderness shown me by Mrs. Hare, the widow of
Archdeacon Hare, and the sister of Frederick Mau-
rice.

I know how you are enjoying the country. I have
just been having the joy myself. The wide sky, the
not London, makes a new creature of me in half an
hour. I wonder, then, why I am ever depressed —
why I am so shaken by agitations. I come back to
London, and again the air is full of demons.

I think I get a little freshness from the breeze that Letter to
blows on you — a little lifting of heart from your wide and Miss
sky and Welsh mountains. And the edge of autumn neii, ist

\. ... T J 1 . Sept 1863.

on the mornmg air makes even London a place m
which one can believe in beauty and delight. Deli-
cate scent of dried rose-leaves and the coming on of

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264 Mommsen — Comte. [16 Blandford Sq.,

Letter to the autuoinal airs are two things that make me feel

smTmiss happy before I know why.

neii, ist The Priory is all scaffolding and paint : and we are
Sept X863. .„ . . , ^ . , ,

still m a nightmare of uncertamty about our boys.

But then I have by my side a dear companion, who is
a perpetual fountain of courage and cheerfulness, and
of considerate tenderness for my lack of those virt-
ues. And besides that I have Roman history ! Per-
haps that sounds like a bitter joke to you, who are
looking at the sea and sky and not thinking of Ro-
man history at all. But this too, read aright, has its
gospel and revelation. I read it much as I used to
read a chapter in the Acts or Epistles. Mommsen's
" History of Rome " is so fine that I count all minds
graceless who read it without the deepest stirrings.
Letter to I cannot be quite easy without sending this little

Mrs. Con- , ^, , , . , , r

grcve, Oct Sign of lovc and good wishes on the eve of your jour-
ney. I shall think of you with all the more delight,
because I shall imagine you winding along the Riviera
and then settling in sight of beautiful things not quite
unknown to me. I hope your life will be enriched
very much by these coming months ; but above all, I
hope that Mr. Congreve will come back strong. Tell
him I have been greatly moved by the " Discours Pre-
liminaire." *
Letter to If J wait to wrfte until I have anything very profita-
Henneii, blc to say, you will have time to think that I have

X6th0ct. ^ , r , , ,

1863. forgotten you or else to forget me — and both conse-
quences would be unpleasant to me.

Well, our poor boy Thornie parted from us to-day
and set out on his voyage to Natal. I say " poor,"
as one does about all beings that are gone away from

> Auguste Comte's.

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1863.] Change of House. 265

us for a long while. But he went away in excellent Letter to
spirits, with a large packet of recommendatory letters Henneii,
to all sorts of people, and with what he cares much 1863.
more for, a first-rate rifle and revolver — and already
with a smattering of Dutch Zulu, picked up from his
grammars and dictionaries.

What are you working at, I wonder? Cara says
you are writing ; and, though I desire not to ask pry-
ing questions, I should feel much joy in your being
able to tell me that you are at work on something
which gives you a life apart from circumstantial things.

I am taking a deep bath of other people's thoughts,
and all doings of my own seem a long way off me.
But my bath will be sorely interrupted soon by the
miserable details of removal from one house to an-
other. Happily Mr. Owen Jones has undertaken the
ornamentation of the drawing-room, and will prescribe
all about chairs, etc. I think, after all, I like a clean
kitchen better than any other room.

We are far on in correcting the proofs of the new
edition of " Goethe," and are about to begin the print-
ing of the "Aristotle," Vt^hich is to appear at Christmas
or Easter.

Nov. «:. — ^^Ve moved into our new house — TheJo«raai.
^ 1863.

Priory, 21 North Bank, Regent's Park.

Nov, 14. — ^We are now nearly in order, only want-
ing a few details of furniture to finish our equipment
for a new stage in our life's journey. I long very
much to have done thinking of upholstery, and to get
again a consciousness that there are better things
than that to reconcile one with life.

At last we are in our new home, with only a few Letter to
details still left to arrange. Such fringing away of 14th Nov.*
precious life, in thinking of carpets and tables, is

11.-12 ^ ,

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266 Mr, Owen Jones Decorates. [The Priory,

Letter to ail afRiction to me, and seems like a nightmare from
14th Nov/ which I shall find it bliss to awake into my old world

of care for things quite apart from upholstery.
Letter to ' I havc kisscd your letter in sigh of my joy at getting
itreve, 28th it. But the cold draughts of your Florentine room

Nov- «863. . ^° , J, I . , -

came across my joy rather harshly. I I know you have
good reasons for what you do, yet I cannot help say-
ing. Why do you stay at Florence, the city of draughts
rather than 6f flowers ?

Mr. Congreve's suffering during the journey and
your suffering in watching him saddens me as I think
of it. For a long while to come I suppose human
energy will be greatly taken up with resignation rather
than action. I wish my feeling for you could travel
by some helpful vibrations good for pains.

For ourselves, we have enough ease now to be able
to give some of it away. But our removal into our
-new home on the 5th of November was not so easy
as it might have been, seeing that I was only half re-
covered from a severe attack of influenza, which had
caused me more terrible pains in the head and throat
than I have known for years. However, the crisis is
past now, and we think our little home altogether
. charming and comfortable. Mr. Owen Jones has
been unwearied in taking trouble that everything
about us may be pretty. He stayed two nights till
after twelve o'clock, that he might see every engrav-
ing hung in the right place ; and as you know I care
even more about the fact of kindness than its effects,
you will understand that I enjoy being grateful for
all this friendliness on our behalf. But so tardy a
business is furnishing, that it was not until Monday
last that we had got everything in its place in prepara-
tion for the next day — Charlie's twenty-first birthday

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^

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1863.] Troubles of Furnishing, 267

— ^which made our house-warming a doubly interest- Letter to

1 -r • 1 111 "''*• Con-.

mg epoch. I wish your sweet presence could have K«ve, asth
adorned our drawing-room and made it look still
more agreeable in the eyes of all beholders. You
would have liked to hear Jansa play on his violin,
and you would perhaps have been amused to see an
affectionate but dowdy friend of yours splendid in a
gray moire antique — the consequence of a severe lect-
ure from Owen Jones on her general neglect of per-
sonal adornment. I am glad to have got over this
crisis of maternal and house-keeping duty. My soul
never flourishes on attention to details which others
can manage quite gracefully without any conscious
loss of power for wider thoughts and cares. Before
we began to move I was swimming in Comte and
Euripides and Latin Christianity : now I am sitting
among puddles, and can get sight of no deep water.
Now I have a mind made up of old carpets fitted in
new places, and new carpets suffering from accidents ;
chairs, tables, and prices | muslin curtains and down
draughts in cold chimneys. I have made a vow never
to think of my own furniture again, but only of other
people's.

The book * is come, with its precious inscription. Letter to
and I have read a great piece of it already (i i a.m.), 4th bee.
besides looking through it to get an idea of its general
plan. See how fascination shifts its quarter as our
life goes on ! I cannot be induced to lay aside my
regular books for half an hour to read " Mrs. Lirriper's
Lodgings," but I pounce on a book like yours, which
tries to tell me as much as it can in brief space of the
" natural order," and am seduced into making it my

' " Physiology for Schools." By Mrs. Bray.

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268 Necessity of Sympathy, [the Priory,

Letter to after -breakfast reading instead of the work I had
4th\>cc^' prescribed for myself in that pleasant quiet time. I
read so slowly and read so few books that this small
fact among my small habits seems a great matter to
me. I thank you, dear Cara, not simply for giving
me the book, but for having put so much faithful
labor in a worthy direction, and created a lasting
benefit which I can share with others. Whether the
circulation of a book be large or small, there is al-
ways this supreme satisfaction about solid honest
work, that as far as it goes its effect must be good, and
as all effects spread immeasurably, what we have to
care for is kind and not quantity. I am a shabby cor-
respondent, being in ardent practice of the piano just
now, which makes my days shorter than usual.
Letter to I am rather ashamed to hear of any one trying to
Bodichon, be uscful just now, for I am doing nothine but in-
1863. dulgmg myself — enjoymg bemg petted very much,
enjoying great books, enjoying our new, pretty, quiet
home, and the study of Beethoven's sonatas for piano
and violin, with the mild -faced old Jansa, and not
being at all unhappy as you imagine me. I sit tak-
ing deep draughts of reading — " Politique Positive,"
Euripides, Latin Christianity, and so forth, and re-
maining in glorious ignorance of " the current litera-
ture." Such is our life ; and you perceive that instead
of being miserable, I am rather following a wicked
example, and saying to my soul, " Soul, take thine
ease." I am sorry to think of you without any artis-
tic society to help you and feed your faith. It is hard
to believe long together that anything is "worth
while," unless there is some eye to kindle in common
with our own, some brief word uttered now and then
to imply that what is infinitely precious to us is pre-

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1863.] Estimate of Renan^ 269

cious alike to another mind. I fancy that to do with- letter to

_ , , . Madame

out that guarantee one must be rather msane^-one Bodichon,

, , . r . ., , , 4th Dec.

must be a bad poet, or a spinner of impossible theo- X863.
ries, or an inventor of impossible machinery. How-
ever, it is but brief space either of time or distance that
divides you from those who thoroughly share your
cares and joys — always excepting that portion which
is the hidden private lot of every human being. In
the: most entire confidence even of husband and wife
there is always the unspoken residue — the undivined
residue — perhaps of what is most sinful, perhaps of
what is most exalted and unselfish.

I get less and less inclined to write any but the Letter to
briefest letters. My books seem to get so far off me H^ne^
when once I have written them, that I should be afraid 1863.
of looking into " The Mill ;" but it was written faith-
fully and with intense feeling when it was written, so
I will hope that it will do no mortal any harm. I am
indulging myself frightfully; reading everything ex-
cept the " current literature," and getting more and
more out of rapport with the public taste. I have
read Kenan's book, however, which has proved to be
eminently in the public taste. It will have a good in-
fluence on the whole, I imagine; but this "Vie de
J^sus," and still more, Renan*s " Letter to Berthelot "
in the Revm des Deux Mondes, have compelled me to
give up the high estimate I had formed of his mind.
Judging from the indications in some other writings
of his, I had reckoned him among the finest thinkers
of the time. Still, his " Life of Jesus " has so much
artistic merit that it will do a great deal towards the
culture of ordinary minds, by giving them a sense of
unity between that far off past and our present. MraJ^Bray,

We are enjoying our new house — enjoying its quiet ?863.^^*

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270 Enjoyment of New House. [The Priory,

Utter to and freedom from perpetual stair-mounting— enjoying
a6th Dec ' also the prettiness of coloring and arrangement; all
of which we owe to our dear good friend, Mr. Owen
Jones. He has determined every detail, so that we
can have the pleasure of admiring what is our own
without vanity. And another magnificent friend has
given me the most splendid reclining chair conceiv-
able, so that I am in danger of being envied by the
gods, especially as my health is thoroughly good
withal. I should like to be sure that you are just as
comfortable externally and internally. I dare say
you are, being less of a cormorant in your demands
on life than I am ; and it is that difference which
chiefly distinguishes human lots when once the abso-
lute needs are satisfied.
Letter to Your affectiouatc greeting comes as one of the many
^^oT^'-blessings that are brightening this happy Christmas.

28tn Dec. t^r i i • . . «

1863. We have been givmg our evenmgs up to parental

duties — ix.^ to games and music for the amusement of
the youngsters. I am wonderfully well in body, but
rather in a self-indulgent state mentally, saying, " Soul,
take thine ease," after a dangerous example.

Of course I shall be glad to see your fair face
whenever it can shine upon me ; but I can well imag-
ine, with your multitudinous connections, Christmas
and the New Year are times when all unappointed visits
must be impossible to you.

All good to you and yours through the coming year !

and amongst the good may you continue to feel some

love for me ; for love is one of the conditions in which

it is even better to give than to receive.

Letter to Accordiug to your plans you must be in Rome. I

grIJ'e. °^ have been in good spirits about you ever since I last

Jan. X 4. jjgard from you, and the foggy twilight which, for the

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x864.] Mr. Lewes's '^Aristotle'' 271

last week, has followed the severe frost, has made me Letter to
rejoice the more that you are in a better climate and greve. 19th

Jan. 1864.

amongst lovelier scenes than we are gropmg in. I
please myself with thinking that you will all come
back with stores of strength and delightful memories.
Only, if this were the best of all possible worlds, Mr.
Lewes and I should be able to meet you in some
beautiful place before you turn your backs on Italy.
As it is, there is no hope of such a meeting. March
is Charlie's holiday month, and when he goes out we
like to stay at home for the sake of recovering for
that short time our unbroken tite-d-tite. We have
every reason to be cheerful if the fog would let us.
Last night I finished reading the last proofs of the
" Aristotle," which makes an octavo volume of rather
less than 400 pages. I think it is a book which will
be interesting and valuable to the few, but perhaps
only to the few. However, George's happiness in
writing his books makes him less dependent than
most authors on the audience they find. He felt that
a thorough account of Aristotle's science was a bit of
work which needed doing, and he has given his utmost
pains to do it worthily. These are the two most im-
portant conditions of authorship ; all the rest belong
to the "less modifiable" order of things. I have
been playing energetically on the piano lately, and
taking lessons in accompanying the violin from Herr
Jansa, one of the old Beethoven Quartette players.
It has given me a fresh kind of muscular exercise, as
well as nervous stimulus, and, I think, has done its
part towards making my health better. In fact I am
very well physically. I wish I could be as clever and
active as you about our garden, which might be made
much prettier this spring if I had judgment and in-

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2/2 Personal Compensation. [The Priory,

Letter to dustry enough to do the right thing. But it is a
creve, 19th native vice of mine to like all such matters attended

Jan. 1864. , ^ p ■% ^ 1 •

to by some one else, and to fold my arms and enjoy
the result Some people are born to make life pretty,
and others to grumble that it is not pretty enough.
But pray make a point of liking me in spite of my
deficiencies.
Letter to . I comfort myself with the belief that your nature is
Tayior, less rebcUious under trouble than mine — less craving

aist Jan.

1864. and discontented.

, Resignation to trial, which can never have a per-
I sonal compensation, is a part of our life task which
has been too much obscured for us by unveracious
attempts at universal consolation. I think we should
be more tender to each other while we live, if that
wretched falsity which makes men quite comfortable
about their fellows* troubles were thoroughly got rid
of.

Letter to I often imagine you, not without a little longing.

Miss Sara . ^ </-tii i<

Henndi, tummg out into the fields whenever you list, as we
1864. ' used to do in the old days at Rosehill. That power
of turning out into the fields is a great possession in
life — ^worth many luxuries.

Here is a bit of news not, I think, too insignificant
for you to tell Cara. The other day Mr. Spencer,
senior (Herbert Spencer's father), called on us, and
knowing that he has been engaged in education all
his life, that he is a man of extensive and accurate
knowledge, and that, on his son's showing, he is a
very able teacher, I showed him Cara's "British Em-
pire." Yesterday Herbert Spencer came, and on my
inquiring told me that his father was pleased with
Cara's book, and thought highly of it. Such testi-
monies as this, given apart from personal influence

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1864.] Mr. Burton's Portrait. 273

and by a Ipractised judge, are, I should think, more Letter to

T . , , r . ,1 r . 1 r , Miss Sara

gratifying than any other sort of praise to all faithful HenncU,

. 22(1 Jan.

writers. 1864.

yan. 30. — ^We had Browning, Dallas, and Burton to joamai,
dine with us, and in the evening a gentlemen's party*

Feb» 14, — Mr. Burton dined with us, and asked me
to let him take my portrait.

It was pleasant to have news of you through the Letter to

Kf n. Peter

fog, which reduces my faith in all good and lovely Taylor, 3d
things to its lowest ebb. 1864.

I hope you are less abjectly under the control of
the skyey influences than I am. The soul's calm sun-
shine in me is half made up of the outer sunshine.
However, we are going on Friday to hear the Judas
Maccabaeus, and Handel's music always brings me a
revival.

I have had a great personal loss lately in the death
of a sweet woman,* to whom I have sometimes gone,
and hoped to go again, for a little moral strength.
She had long been confined to her room by consump-
tion, which has now taken her quite out of reach ex-
cept to memory, which makes all dear human beings
undying to us as long as we ourselves live.

I am glad to know that you have been interested in
" David Gray." * It is good for us all that these true
stories should be well told. Even those to whom the
power of helping rarely comes, have their imaginations
instructed so as to be more just and tender in their Letter to
thoughts about the lot of their fellows. Henneu,

I felt it. long since I had had news from you, but 1864.

* Mrs. Julius Hare, who gave her Maurice^s book on the Lord's
Prayer.

* A story by Mr. Robert Buchanan in the Comhill^ Feb., 1S64.

T2

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274 Inequality of Human Lois. [The Priory,

i^erto my days go by, each seeming too short for what I
Hraoeu, must do, and I don't like to molest you with mere

7th March, . ' -*

1864. questions.

I have been spoiled for correspondence by Mr.
Lewes's goodness in always writing letters for me
where a proxy is admissible. And so it has come to
be a great affair with me to write even a note, while
people who keep up a large correspondence, and set
apart their hour for it, find it easy to cover reams of
paper with talk from the end of the pen.

You say nothing of yourself, which is rather unkind.
We are enjoying a perfect tite-d-tite. On Friday we
are going to hear the Judas Maccabaeus, and try if
possible to be stirred to something heroic by " Sound
an alarm."

I was more sorry than it is usually possible to be
about the death of a person utterly unknown to me,
when I read of Maria Martineau's death. She was a
person whose office in life seemed so thoroughly de-
fined and so valuable. For an invalid like Harriet
Martineau to be deprived of a beloved nurse and com-
panion, is a sorrow that makes one ashamed of one's
small grumblings. But, oh dear, oh dear ! when will
people leave off their foolish talk about all human lots
being equal ; as if anybody with a sound stomach ever
knew misery comparable to the misery of a dyspeptic.

Farewell, dear Sara ; be generous, and don't always
wait an age in silence because I don't write.
Letter to If you wcrc anybody but yourself I should dislike

Sevc. 8th you, because I have to write letters to you. As it is,
arch, '' ,. , . , ,.-,..

1864. your qualities triumph even over the vice of being m
Italy (too far off for a note of three lines), and expect-
ing to hear from me, though I fear I should be grace-
less enough to let you expect in vain if I did not care

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1^64.] Trip to Scotland. 275

very much to hear from you. and did not find myself Letter to

. , , , , , . Mre.Con-

gettmg uneasy when many weeks have been passed m greve, sth
ignorance about you. I do hope to hear that you got 1864.
your fortnight of sight-seeing before leaving Rome —
at least, you would surely go well over the great gal-
leries. If not, I shall be vexed with you, and I shall
only be consoled for your not going to Venice by the
chance of the Austrians being driven or bought out of
it — on no slighter grounds. For I suppose you will
not go to Italy again for a long, long while, so as to
leave any prospect of the omission being made up for
by-and-by.

We run off to Scotland for the Easter week, setting Letter to

o, , . .- , . Miss Sara

out on Sunday evenmg ; so if the sprmg runs away Henndi,
again, I hope it will run northward. We shall return March,
on Monday, the 4th April. Some news of your inwards
and outwards would be acceptable; but don't write
unless you really like to write. You see Strauss has
come out with 2i popular " Life of Jesus."

Foer, east wind, and headache: there is my week's Letter to

, . ^ , . . , , Mre. Peter

history. But this mornmg, when your letter came to Taylor,
me, I had got up well and was reading the sorrows of March,
the aged Hecuba with great enjoyment. I wish an
immortal drama could be got out of my sorrows, that
people might be the better for them two thousand
years hence. But fog, east wind, and headache are
not great dramatic motives.

Your letter was a reinforcement of the delicious
sense of bim ttre that comes with the departure of
bodily pain ; and I am glad, retrospectively, that be-
yond our fog lay your moonlight and your view of the
glorious sea. It is not difficult to me to believe that
you look a new creature already. Mr. Lewes tells me
the country air has always a magical effect on me.

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276 Garibaldi at Crystal Palace, [the Priory,

Letter to cvcn in the first hour : but it is not the air alone, is it ?

Mra. Peter

Taylor, It is the wide sky, and the hills, and the wild-flowers

liarch. which are linked with all calming thoughts, just as ev-
1864. ... , . , . . .

ery object m town has its perturbing associations.

I share your joy in the Federal successes — with that
check that attends all joy in a war not absolutely end-
ed. But you have worked and earned more joy than
those who have been merely passives.

Journal, April 6. — Mr. Spencer called for the first time after
a long correspondence oh the subject of his relation
to Cpmte.

Letter to Yes ! I am come back from Scotland — came back

Miss Sara , -„ , . ,

Henneii, last Saturday night.

X864. * I was much pleased to see Cara so wonderfully well
and cheerful. She seems to me ten times more cheer-
ful than in the old days. I am interested to know
more about your work which is filling your life now,
but I suppose I shall know nothing until it is in print
— and perhaps that is the only form in which one can
do any one's work full justice. It is very disappoint-
ing to me to hear that Cara has at present so little
promise of monetary results from her conscientious
labor. I fear the fatal system of half profits is work-
ing against her as against others. We are going to
the opera to-night to hear the Favorita. It was the
first opera I ever saw (with you I saw it !), and I have
never seen it since — that is the reason I was anxious
to go to-night.

This afternoon we go to see Mulready's pictures —
so the day will be a full one.

jc«imai, April 18. — ^We went to the Crystal Palace to see

Letter to Garibaldi.

HeMcilJ^ Only think ! next Wednesday morning we start for

?864.'^^" ' Ita:ly. The move is quite a sudden one. We need a

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1864.] Third Visit to Italy. 277

good shake for our bodies and minds, and must take Letter to
the spring-time, before the weather becomes too hot. Henneu'
\Ye shall not be away more than a month or six weeks ?864. ^ '
at the utmost. Our friend Mr. Burton, the artist, will
be our companion for at least part of the time. He
has just painted a divine picture, which is now to be
seen at the old Water-Color Exhibition. The subject
is from a Norse legend; but that is no matter — the
picture tells its story. A knight in mailed armor and
surcoat has met the fair, tall woman he (secretly) loves,
on a turret stair. By an uncontrollable movement he
has seized her arm and is kissing it. She, amazed,
has dropped the flowers she held in her other hand.
The subject might have been made the most vulgar
thing in the world — the artist has raised it to the
highest pitch of refined emotion. The kiss is on thQ
fur-lined sleeve that covers the arm, and the face of
the knight is the face of a man to whom the kiss is a
sacrament.

How I should like a good long talk with you I From
what you say of your book that is to come, I expect to
be very much interested in it. I think I hardly ever
read a book of the kind you describe without getting
some help from it. It is to this strong influence that
is felt in all personal statements of inward experience
that we must perhaps refer the excessive publication
of religious journals.

May 4. — ^We started for Italy with Mr. Burton. journal,

yune 20. — Arrived at our pretty home again after
an absence of seven weeks.

Your letter has affected me deeply. Thank you Letter to

, ^ . . . , .r , . Miss Sara

very much for writmg it. It seems as if a close view Hcnneii,
of almost every human lot would disclose some suffer- 1864. ^
ing that makes life a doubtful good^xcept perhaps

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278 Italian Journey with Burton. [The Pkiort,

Letter to at Certain epochs of fresh love, fresh creative activity,
Henneii, or unusual power of helping others. One such epoch
1864. we are witnessing in a young life that is very near to
us. Our "boy" Charles has just become engaged,
and it is very pretty to see the happiness of a pure
first love, full at present of nothing but promise. It
will interest you to know that the young lady who has
won his heart, and seems to have given him her own
with equal ardor and entireness, is the grand-daughter
of Dr. Southwood Smith, whom he adopted when she
was three years old, and brought up under his own
eye. She is very handsome, and has a splendid con-
tralto voice. Altogether Pater and I rejoice — for
though the engagement has taken place earlier than
we expected, or should perhaps have chosen, there are
counterbalancing advantages. I always hoped Charlie
would be able to choose or rather find the other half
of himself by the time he was twenty-three ; the event
has only come a year and a half sooner. This is the
news that greeted us on our return ! We had seen
before we went that the acquaintance, which was first
made eighteen months or more ago, had become su-
premely interesting to Charlie. Altogether we rejoice.
Our journey was delightful in spite of Mr. Lewes's
frequent malaise; for his cheerful nature is rarely sub-
dued even by bodily discomfort. We saw only one
place that we had not seen before — namely, Brescia ;
but all the rest seemed more glorious to us than they
had seemed four years ago. Our course was to Venice,
where we stayed a fortnight, pausing only at Paris,
Turin and Milan on our way thither, and taking Padua,
Verona, Brescia, and again Milan, as points of rest
on our way back. Our friend Mr. Burton's company
was very stimulating, from his great knowledge, not

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1864.] Despondency, 279

of pictures only, but of almost all other subjects. He Letter to
has had the advantage of living in Germany for five Henneii,
or six years, and has gamed those large, serious views 1864.
of history which are a special product of German cult-
ure, and this was his first visit to Italy, so you may
imagine his eager enjoyment in finding it beautiful
beyond his hopes. We crossed the Alps by the St.
Gothard, and stayed a day or two at Lucerne; and
this, again, was a first sight of Switzerland to him.

Looking at my little mats. this morning while I was Letter to

I^rs* Con*

dressing, I felt very grateful for them, and remem-greve,
bered that I had not shown my gratitude when you
gave them to me. If I were a " conceited " poet, I
should say your presence was the sun, and the mats
were the tapers ; but now you are away, I delight in
the tapers. How pretty the pattern is — and your
brain counted it out ! They will never be worn quite
away while I live, or my little purse for coppers either.

July 17. — Horrible scepticism about all things par- Journal,
alyzing my mind. Shall I ever be good for anything
again ? Ever do anything again ?

yuly 19. — Reading Gibbon, Vol. I., in connection
with Mosheim, also Gieseler on the condition of the
world at the appearance of Christianity.

I am distressed to find that I have let a week pass Letter to

. , ... , , . 1 , HivsA Sara

Without writing m answer to your letter, which made Henneii,

, , , -r . ^,. , . . aSthAug.

me very glad when I got it. Remembering you just 1864.
a minute ago, I started up from Max Miiller's new vol-
ume, with which I was consoling myself under a sore
throat, and rushed to the desk that I might not risk
any further delay.

It was just what I wanted to hear about you that
you were having some change, and I think the fresh-
ness of the companionship must help other good influ-

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28o " The Spanish Gypsy'' [The Priory,

Letter to cnccs, not to speak of the "Apologia," which breathed
Henneii. much life into me when I read it. Pray mark that
1864. ■ beautiful passage in which he thanks his friend Am-
brose St. John. I know hardly anything that delights
me more than such evidences of sweet brotherly love
being a reality in the world. I envy you your opportu-
nity of seeing and hearing Newman, and should like to
make an expedition to Birmingham for that sole end.

My trouble now is George's delicate health. He
~~ gets thinner and thinner. He is going to try what

horseback will do, and I am looking forward to that
with some hope.

Our boy's love-story runs smoothly, and seems to
promise nothing but good. His attraction to Hamp-
stead gives George and me more of our dear old tite-
d-tite, which we can't help being glad to recover.

Dear Cara and Mr. Bray ! I wish they too had joy
instead of sadness from the young life they have been
caring for these many years. When you write to Cara,
or see her, assure her that she is remembered in my
most affectionate thoughts, and that I often bring her
present experience before my mind — ^more or less truly
— ^for we can but blunder about each other, we poor
mortals.

Write to me whenever you can, dear Sara ; I should
have answered immediately but for sickness, visitors,
business, etc.
Journal, Sept, 6. — lam reading about Spain, and trying a drama
on a subject that has fascinated me — have written the prol-
ogue, and am beginning the First Act, But I have little
hope of making anything satisfactory, .

Sept, 13 to 30. — ^Went to Harrogate and Scarbor-
ough, seeing York Minster and Peterborough.

We journeyed hither on Tuesday, and found the

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Fttcsinule/ of cu portu?w o^ GbQRGE Eu'OTl

14c:: JulmC^ M Joiu^ UIjqc t^ oJh^yey9>Utju , «r>K^f^^^ cU^
CjL tJ-^^i^^Am f tTla C4UM tc^'^^ttit^ CL^Aa^^ cU4-ircAeA

f CCf^^ .

MS. fi^oTTL Nates ojv 'The SPAmsff GypsyT

^, tu.prt^ tZel^ <fe— >>i^ /y, ^ A^ C-A/70 U^c£ Xtt^^

OK? A frtjuJ^ ^d-yipi^truK^ttLi ftxH/'ri^sjt, erf. «/v'"x2swm^ c/jXj^^

LitAt-cy a. 'tiXf^jiU^ c^le^^rfXjfr yf^>f*^LAjLu<j2y (iuy^ )iiat — 1/\
"A-W ^feX ^coo^ 4./t^(rC ?>%«. ^rOlljUAh ^'^ ryy.'irrry^Mn^U-

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1864] Harrogate and Scarborough. 281

place quite as pretty as we expected. The great merit Letter to
of Harrogate is that one is everywhere close to lovely Henneii,
open walks. Your "plan" has been a delightful ref-1864. from'
erence for Mr. Lewes, who takes it out of his pocket
every time we walk. At present, of course, there is not
much improvement in health to be boasted of, but we
hope that the delicious bracing air, and also the
chalybeate waters, which have not yet been tried, will
not be without good effect. The journey was long.
How hideous those towns of Holbeach and Wakefield
are ! It is difficult to keep up one's faith in a millen-
nium within sight of this modern civilization which
consists in " development of industries." Egypt and
her big calm gods seems quite as good.

We migrated on Friday last from delightful Harro- Letter to
gate, pausing at York to see the glorious Cathedral, Henneu,

^1. 1 . r . !_, , . 26th Sept.

The weather is perfect, the sea blue as a sapphire, so 1864, from
that we see to utmost advantage the fine line of coast borough,
here and the magnificent breadth of sand. Even the
Tenby sands are not so fine as these. Better than
all, Mr. Lewes, in spite of a sad check of a few days,
is strengthened beyond our most hopeful expectations
by this brief trial of fresh conditions. He is wonder-
ful for the rapidity with which he "picks up" after
looking alarmingly feeble arid even wasted. We paid
a visit to Knaresborough the very last day of our stay
at Harrogate, and were rejoiced that we had not
missed the sight of that pretty characteristic north-
ern town. There is a ruined castle here too, standing
just where one's eyes would desire it on a grand line
of cliif ; but perhaps you know the place. Its only
defect is that it is too large, and therefore a little too
smoky; but except in Wales or Devonshire I have
seen no sea-place on our English coast that has great-

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282 Visit from Mrs. Congreve. [The Priory,

Letter to CF natural advantages. I don't know quite why I should

Miss Sara . t . „ , , ,

Henneu, wFitc you this uotc all aoout ourselvcs — except that

J864,fr*om* your goodness having helped us to the benefit we have

borough, got, I like you to know of the said benefit.

Letter to The wished-foF opportunity is coming very soon,

greve. Sun- Next Saturday Charlie will go to Hastings, and will

*864. not return till Sunday evening. Will you— can you — •

arrange to come to us on Saturday to lunch or dinner,

and stay with us till Sunday evening? We shall be

very proud and happy if you will consent to put up

with such travelling quarters as we can give you. You

will be rejoicing our hearts by coming, and I know

that for the sake of cheering others you would endure

even large privations as well as small ones.

Letter to What a pure delight it was to have you with us I

greve, I feel the better for it in spite of a cold which I caught

Monday- , , . , , r

weekfoi- yesterday — perhaps owmg to the loss of your sunny

presence all of a sudden.
Letter to It makcs me very, very happy to see George so much
HenneU, better, and to return with that chief satisfaction to the

ad Oct.

X864. quiet comforts of home. We register Harrogate among
the places to be revisited.

I have had a fit of Spanish history lately, and have
been learning Spanish grammar — the easiest of all the
Romance grammars — since we have been away. Mr.
Lewes has been rubbing up his Spanish by reading
Don Quixote in these weeks of idlesse; and I have
read aloud and translated to him, like a good child.
I find it so much easier to learn anything than to feel
that I have anything worth teaching.

All is perfectly well with us, now the " little Pater "
is stronger, and we are especially thankful for Charlie's
prospect of marriage. We could not have desired
anything more suited to his character and more likely

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1864.] Miss HenneWs Birthday. 283

to make his life a good one. But this blessing which Letter to
has befallen us only makes me feel the more acutely Hcnneii,
the cuttipg off of a like satisfaction from the friends 1 1864./
chiefly love.

Oct. 5. -^Finished the first draught of the First Act Journal,
of my drama, and read it to George.

Oct. 15. — ^Went to the Maestro (Burton) for a sitting.

Nov. 4. — Read my Second Act to George, It is
written in verse — my first serious attempt at blank
verse. G. praises and encourages me.

Nov. 10. — I have been at a very low ebb, body and
mind, for the last few days, sticking in the mud con-
tinually in the construction of my 3d, 4th, and 5th
Acts. Yesterday Browning came to tell us of a
bust of Savonarola in terra-cotta, just discovered at
Florence.

I believe I have thought of you every day for the Letter to
last fortnight, and I remembered the birthday — and HenneU,
" everything." But I was a little cross, because I had 1864.
heard nothing of you since Mr. Bray's visit. And I
said to myself, " If she wanted to write she would
write." I confess I was a little ashamed when I saw
the outside of your letter ten minutes ago, feeling that
I should read within it the proof that you were as
thoughtful and mindful as ever.

Yes, I do heartily give my greeting — had given it
already. And I desire very much that the work which
is absorbing you may give you some happiness be-
sides that which belongs to the activity of produc-
tion.

It is very kind of you to remember Charlie's date ^
too. He is as happy as the day is long, and very
good — one of those creatures to whom goodness comes
naturally — not any exalted goodness, but every- day

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284 Christmas Greetings. [The Priory,

Letter to serviceable goodness, such as wears through life.
Henncu, Whereas exalted goodness comes in brief inspirations,
1864.^' and requires a man to die lest he should spoil his
work.

I have been ill, but now am pretty well, with much
to occupy and interest me, and with no trouble except
those bodily ailments.

I could chat a long while with you — ^but I restrain
myself, because I must not carry on my letter-writing
into the "solid day."
Letter to Your prccious letter did come last night, and crowned
jjeJe, ' the day's enjoyment. Our family party went off very
day, 1864. well, entirely by dint of George's exertions. I wish
you had seen him acting charades, and heard him
make an after-supper speech. You would have un-
derstood all the self-forgetful goodness that lay under
the assumption of boyish animal spirits. A horrible
German whom I have been obliged to see has. been
talking for two hours, with the hardest eyes, blind to
all possibilities that he was boring us, and so I have
been robbed of all the time I wanted for writing to
you. I can only say now that I bore you on my heart
—you and all yours known to me— even before I had
had your letter yesterday. Indeed you are not apart
from any delight I have in life : I long always that
you should share it, if not otherwise, at least by know-
ing of it, which to you is a sort of sharing. Our double
loves and best wishes for all of you — Rough being in-
cluded, as I trust you include Ben. Are they not idlers
with us ? Also a title to regard as well as being «?/-
laborateurs.
Journal, Dec, 24. — A family party in the evening.

Dec, 25. — I read the Third Act of my drama to
George, who praised it highly. We spent a perfectly

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iS65.] Retrospect of 1864. 285

quiet evening, intending to have our Christmas-day's
jollity on Tuesday when the boys are at home.

yan, I. — ^The last year has been unnaarked by any Journal,
trouble except bad health. The bright spots in the
year have been. the publication of "Aristotle " and our
journey to Venice. With me the year has not been
fruitful. I have written three Acts of my drama, and
am now in a condition of body and mind to make me
hope for better things in the coming year. The last
quarter has made an epoch for me, by the fact that, 1
for the first time in my serious authorship I have writ- \
ten verse. In each other we are happier than ever.
I am more grateful to my.dear husband for his perfect
love, which helps me in all good and checks me in all
evil — ^mbre conscious that in him I have the greatest
of blessings.

I hope the. wish that this New Year may be a happy Letter to
one to you does not seem to be made a mockery bygrev'csd
any troubles or anxieties pressing on you.

I enclose a check, which I shall be obliged if you
will offer to Mr. Congreve, as I know he prefers that
payments should be made at the beginning of the
year.

I shall think of you on the nineteenth. I wonder '
how many there really were in that "small upper
room " 1866 years ago.

yan. 8. — Mrs. Congreve staying with us for a couple journal,
of nights. Yesterday we went to Mr. Burton's to see
my portrait, with which she was much pleased. Since
last Monday I have been writing a poem, the matter
of which was written in prose three or four years ago
— " My Vegetarian Friend."

yan, 15 to 25. — ^Visit to Paris.

Are we not happy to have reached home on Wed-

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286 Poem on "Utopias^ [The Priory,

i^tterto nesday before this real winter came ? We enjoyed
gTcve,Fri- our visit to Paris greatly, in spite of bad weather,
Jan. 1865. going to the theatre or opera nearly every night, and
seeing sights all day long. I think the most interest-
ing sight we saw was Comte's dwelling. Such places,
that knew the great dead, always move me deeply ;
and I had an unexpected sight of interest in the
photograph taken at the very last. M. Thomas was
very friendly, and pleasant to talk to because of his
simple manners. We gave your remembrances to
him, and promised to assure you of his pleasure in
hearing of you. I wish some truer representation of
Mr. Congreve hung up in the Salon instead of that
(to me) exasperating photograph.

We thought the apartment very freundlich, and I
flattered myself that I could have written better in
the little study there than in my own. Such self-
flattery is usually the most amiable phase of discon-
tent with one's own inferiority.

I am really stronger for the change.
Journal, y^^ 28.— Finished my poem on " Utopias."
Letter to I suspcct you have come to dislike letters, but until

Miss Sara -r . . , , t

Henneii, you say SO, I must write now and then to gratify my:
1865. ' self. I want to send my love, lest all the old mes-
sages shall have lost their scent, like old lavender
bags.

Since I wrote to you last we have actually been to
Paris ! A little business was an excuse for getting a
great deal of pleasure ; and I, for whom change of
air and scene is always the best tonic, am much
brightened by our wintry expedition, which ended just
in time for us to escape the heavy fall of snow.

We are very happy, having almost recovered our
old tHe-d-tHe, of which I am so selfishly fond that I

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1865.] Charades,. 287

am beginning to feel it an heroic effort when I make Letter to

^ ^ ^ ^ Miss Sara

up my mind to invite half a dozen visitors. But it is Henneii,

. . , . .,,... «th Feb.

necessary to strive against this unsocial disposition, 1865.
so we are going to have some open evenings.

There is great talk of a new periodical — a fortnight-
ly apparition, partly on the plan of the Revue des Deux
Mondes, Mr. Lewes has consented to become its ed-
itor, if the preliminaries are settled so as to satisfy him.

Ecco! I have told you a little of our news, not dar-
ing to ask you anything about yourself, since you evi-
dently don't want to tell me anything.

The party was a "mull." The weather was bad. Letter to

^ , . . , .,,1 t Mrs. Con.

Some of the invited were ill and sent regrets, others greve, 19th

, ■ ^ . Feb. 1865.

were not ardent enough to brave the damp evening —
in fine, only twelve canie. We had a charade, which,
like our neighbors, was no better than it should have
been, and some rather languid music, our best musi-
cians half failing us — so ill is merit rewarded in this
world ! If the severest sense of fulfilling a duty could
make one's parties pleasant, who so deserving as I ?
I turn my inward shudders into outward smiles, and
talk fast, with a sense of lead on my tongue. How-
ever, Mr. Pigott made a woman's part in the charade
so irresistibly comic that I tittered at it at intervals
in my sleepless hours. I am rather uncomfortable
about you, because you seemed so much less well and
strong the other day than your average. Let me hear
before long how you and Mr. Congreve are.

Feb, 21. — 111 and very miserable. George has taken Journal,
my drama away from me.

The sun shone through my window on your letter Jt«"«J,*°
as I read it, adding to its cheeriness. It was good of e^cajth
you to write it. I was ill last week, and had mental
troubles besides — happily such as are unconnected

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288 Visit to the Congreves. [The Priory,

Letter to with any one's experience except my own. I am still

nere, rjih ailing, but Striving hard " not to mind," and not to
** diffuse my inward trouble, according to Madame de
Vaux's excellent maxim. I shall not, I fear, be able
to get to you till near the end of next week — towards
the nth. I think of you very often, and especially
when my own malaise reminds me how much of your
time is spent in the same sort of endurance. Mr.
Spencer told us yesterday that Dr. Ransom said he
had cured himself of dyspepsia by leaving off stimu-
lants — the full benefit manifesting itself after two or
three months of abstinence. I am going to try. All
best regards to Mr. Congreve and tenderest sisterly
love to yourself.

jminia], March i. — ^I wrote an article for the Pall Mall

'^^ Gazette— ''A Word for the Germans."

March 12. — Went to Wandsworth, to spend the Sun-
day and Monday with Mr. and Mrs. Congreve. Feel-
I ing very ailing ; in constant dull pain, which makes
all effort burdensome.

Letter to I did uot promisc, like Mr. Collins, that you should

Mrs. Con- , r i i *• * • i

greve,i6th rcccive a letter of thanks for your kind entertamment

March,

1865. of me j but I feel the need of writing a word or two
to break the change from your presence to my com-
plete absence from you. It was really an enjoyment
to be with you, in spite of the bodily uneasiness which
robbed me of half my mind. One thing only I regret
— that in my talk with you I think I was rather merci-
less to other people. Whatever vices I have seem to
be exaggerated by, my malaise — such "chastening"
not answering the purpose of purification in my case.
Pray set down any unpleasant notions I have suggest-
ed about others to my account — /.^., as being my un-
pleasantne,ss, and not theirs. When one is bilious,

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1865.] Thoughts on Early Death, 289

other people's complexions look yellow, and one of Letter to
their eyes higher than the other — all the fault of one's gjeve, i6th
own evil interior. I long to hear from you that you 1865. '
are better, and if you are not better, still to hear from
you before too long an interval. Mr. Congreve's con-
dition is really cheering, and he goes about with me
as a pleasant picture — like that Raphael the Tuscan
^ duke chose always to carry with him.

I got worse after I left you ; but to-day I am better,
and begin to think there is nothing serious the matter
with me except the "weather," which every one else
is alleging as the cause of their symptoms.

I believe you are one of the few who can understand Letter to

.... . , . Mrs. Bray,

that m certam crises direct expression of sympathy is '8th
the least possible to those who most feel sympathy. 1865. *
If I could have been with you in bodily presence, I
should have sat silent, thinking silence a sign of feel-
ing that speech, trying to be wise, must always spoil.
The truest things one can say about great Death are
the oldest, simplest things that everybody knows by
rote, but that no one knows really till death has come
very close. And when that inward teaching is going
on, it seems pitiful presumption for those who are
outside to be saying anything. There is no such thing
as consolation when we have made the lot of another
our own. I don't know whether you strongly share,
as I do, the old belief that made men say the gods
loved those who died young. It seems to me truer
than ever, now life has become more complex, and
more and more difficult problems have to be worked
out. Life, though a good to men on the whole, is a
doubtful good to many, and to some not a good at
all. To my thought it is a source of constant men-
tal distortion to make the denial of this a part of re-
11.-13

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290 Mr. Lewes s Buoyant Nature. [The Priory,

Letter to ligioD — to go on pretending things are better than
•9th * they are. To me early death takes the aspect of sal-
186$. vation ; though I feel, too, that those who live and
suffer may sometimes have the greater blessedness of
being a salvation. But I will not write of judgments
and opinions. What I want my letter to tell you is
that I love you truly, gratefully, unchangeably.
Journal, March 25. — I am in deep depression, feeling pow-
erless. I have written nothing but beginnings since
I finished a little article for the Pall Mally on the
Logic of Servants. Dear George is all activity, yet
. is in very frail health. How I worship his good hu-
, mor, his good sense, his affectionate care for every one
who has claims on him I That worship is my best life.
March 29. — Sent a letter on " Futile Lying," from
Saccharissa to the Pall Mali
I have begun a novel (" Felix Holt").
Letter to We are wondering if, by any coincidence or condi-

Mrs. Con- . ^ , . , , .„, ,

greye,iithtion of thmgs, you could come to us on Thursday,
when we have our last evening party — ^wondering how
you are — ^m'ondering everything about you, and know-
ing nothing. Could you resolve some of our wonder-
ings into cheering knowledge ? It is ages since you
made any sign to us. Are we to be blamed or you ?
I hope you are not unfavorably affected by the sud-
den warmth which comes with the beautiful sunshine.
Some word of you, in pity !
Letter to If the suu gocs on shining in this glorious way, I
greve.2ad shall think of your journey with pleasure. The sight

April,i86$. , , . !_ J , ,

of the country must be a good when the trees are
bursting into leaf. But I will remember your warn-
ing to Emily, and not insist too much on the advan-
tages of paying visits. Let us hear of you sometimes,
and think of us as very busy and very happy, but al-

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1865.] The '^Fortnightly Review'' 291

ways including you in our world, and getting uneasy Jf "^'f,*®
when we are left too much to our imaginations about P"eve.a2d
you. Tell Emily that Ben and I are the better for
having seen her. He has added to his store of mem-
ories, and will recognize her when she comes again.

May 4. — Sent an article on Lecky*s "History of Journal,
Rationalism " for the Fortnightly, For nearly a fort- " ^
night I have been ill, one way or other.

May 10.— Finished a letter of Saccharissa for the
Fall Mali Reading -^schylus, "Theatre of the
Greeks," Klein's " History of the Drama," etc.

This note will greet you on your return, and tell Letter to

, , , r . , Mrs.Con-

you that we were glad to hear of you m your absence, |revc,iith
even though the news was not of the brightest. Next
week we are going away— I don't yet know exactly
where ; but it is firmly settled that we start on Mon-
day. It will be good for the carpets, and it will be
still better for us, who need a wholesome shaking,
even more than the carpets do.

The first number of the Review was done with last
Monday, and will be out on the isth. You will be
glad to hear that Mr. Harrison's article is excellent,
but the " mull" which George declares to be the fatality
with all first numbers is so far incurred with regard to
this very article that, fi-om overwhelming alarm at its
length, George put it (perhaps too hastily) into the
smaller type. I hope the importance of the subject
and the excellence of the treatment will overcome that
disadvantage.

Nurse all pleasant thoughts in your solitude, and
count our affection among them.

We have just returned from a five days' holiday at Letter to

, , . . , , , . Miss Sara

the coast, and are much invigorated by the tonic Henneii,

* ^ 18th May,

breezes. «86s.

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292 Reading far ^^Felix Holt^ [The Priory,

J*tt«^ We have nothing to do with the Fortnightly as a
u«B^ money speculation. Mr. Lewes has simply accepted
*Ks. ' the post of editor, and it was seemly that I should
write a little in it But do not suppose that I am going
into periodical writing. And your friendship is not re-
quired to read one syllable for our sakes. On the con-
trary, you have my full sympathy in abstaining. Rest
in peace, dear Sara, and finish your work, that you may
have the sense of having spoken out what was within
you. That is really a good — I mean, when it is done
in all seriousness and sincerity,
^a?"^ ^^y ^^' — Fj'^^shed Bamford's "Passages from the
Life of a Radical." Have just begun again Mill's
" Political Economy," and Comte's " Social Science,"
in Miss Martineau's edition.

yune 7. — Finished Annual Register iox 1832. Read-
ing Blackstone. Mill's second article on " Comte," to
appear in the Westminster^ lent me by Mr. Spencer.
My health has been better of late.

June 15. — Read again Aristotle's "Poetics" with
fresh admiration.

yune 20. — Read the opening of my novel to G.
Yesterday we drove to Wandsworth. Walked together
on Wimbledon Common, in outer and inner sunshine,
as of old ; then dined with Mr. and Mrs. Congreve,
and had much pleasant talk.

yune 25. — Reading English History, reign of George
III. ; Shakespeare's " King John." Yesterday G. dined
at Greenwich with the multitude of so-called writers
for the Saturday, He heard much commendation of
the Fortnightly^ especially of Bagehot's articles, which
last is reassuring after Mr. Trollope's strong objections.

yuly 3.— Went to hear the "Faust" at Covent Gar-
den : Mario, Lucca, and Graziani. I was much thrilled

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1865.] Public Tributes. — MilL 293

by the great symbolical situations, and by the music Jcwmai,
— more, I think, than I had ever been before.

July 9 (Sunday).— We had Browning, Huxley, Mr.
Warren, Mr. Bagehot, and Mr. Crompton, and talk was
pleasant.

Success to the canvassing ! It is " very meet and Jf^^p*®^,
right and your bounden duty" to be with Mr. Taylor '|^y^^'»
in this time of hard work, and I am glad that your health J^*» J"^y»
has made no impediment. I should have liked to be
present when you were cheered. The expression of a
common feeling by a large mass of men, when the feel-
ing is one of good-will, moves me like music. A pub-
lic tribute to any man who has done the world a ser-
vice with brain or hand has on me the effect of a great
religious rite, with pealing organ and full-voiced choir.

I agree wit^h you in your feeling about Mill. Some
of his works have been frequently my companions of
late, and I have been going through many actions de
grdce towards him. I am not anxious that he should
be in Parliament : thinkers can do more outside than
inside the House. But it would have been a fine prece-
dent, and would have made an epoch, for such a man
to have been asked for and elected solely on the ground
of his mental eminence. As it is, I suppose it is pretty
certain that he will fwi be elected.

I am glad you have been interested in Mr. Lewes's
article. His great anxiety about the Fortnightly is to
make it the vehicle for sincere writing — real contribu-
tions of opinion on important topics. But it is more
difficult than the inexperienced could imagine to get
the sort of writing which will correspond to that desire
of his.

yuiy 16. — Madame Bohn, niece of Professor Scherer, Journal,
called. She said certain things about "Romola"

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294 The Mazzini Fund. [the Priory,

joma], which showed that she had felt what I meant my read-
1865. ^

ers to feel. She said she knew the book had produced
the same effect on many others. I wish I could be
encouraged by this.

July 22. — Sat for my portrait— I suppose for the
last time.

July 23. — I am going doggedly to work at my novel,
seeing what determination can do in the face of de-
spair. Reading Neale's " History of the Puritans."
Utter to I received yesterday the circular about the Mazzini
Taylor, ist Fund. Mr. Lewes and I would have liked to sub-

Aug. 1865.

scribe to a tribute to Mazzini, or to a fund for his use,
of which the application was defined and guaranteed
by his own word. As it is, the application of the de-
sired fund is only intimated in the vaguest manner by
the Florentine committee. The reflection is inevitable
that the application may ultimately be the promotion
of conspiracy, the precise character of which is neces-
sarily unknown to subscribers. Now, though I believe
there are cases in which conspiracy may be a sacred,
necessary struggle against organized wrong, there are
also cases in which it is hopeless, and can produce
nothing but misery ; or needless, because it is not the
best means attainable of reaching the desired end ; or
unjustifiable, because it resorts to acts which are more
unsocial in their character than the very wrong they
are directed to extinguish ; and in these three supposa-
ble cases it seems to me that it would be a social crime
to further conspiracy even by the impulse of a little
finger, to which one may well compare a small money
subscription.

I think many persons to whom the circular might be
sent would take something like this view, and would
grieve, as we do, that a proposition intended to honor

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1865.] The Congreves. 295

Mazzini should come in a form to which they cannot Letter to

^ Mrs. Peter

conscientiously subscribe. Taylor, ist

au^* ioo5>

I trouble you and Mr. Taylor with this explanation,
because both Mr. Lewes and I have a real reverence
for Mazzini, and could not therefore be content to give
a silent negative.

I fear that my languor on Saturday prevented me Letter to
from fairly showing you how sweet and precious yourg«ve, ist
presence was to me then, as at all times. We have
almost made up our minds to start some time in this
month for a run in Normandy and Brittany. We both
need the change, though when I receive, as I did yes-
terday, a letter from some friend, telling me of cares
and trials from which I am quite free, I am ashamed
of wanting anything.

Aug, 2. — Finished the "Agamemnon " second time. \^^

When I wrote to you last I quite hoped that I should Letter to
see you and Emily before we left home, but now it isgreve,6th
settled that we start on Thursday morning, and I have
so many little things to remember and to do that I
dare not set apart any of the intervening time for the
quiet enjoyment of a visit from you. It is not quite so
cheerful a picture as I should like to carry with me,
that of you and Emily so long alone, with Mr. Con-
greve working at Bradford. But your friends are sure
to think of you, and want to see you. I hope you did
not suffer so severely as we did from the arctic cold
that rushed in after the oppressive heat. Mr. T. Trol-
lope came from Italy just when it began. He says it
is always the same when he comes to England, people
always say it has just been very hot, and he believes
that means they had a few days in which they were
not obliged to blow on their fingers.

When you write to Mr. Congreve pray tell him that

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296 Trip to Brittany. [The Priory,

Utter to we were very grateful for his Itinerary, which is likely

Aire* Con>

grcve, 6ih to be useful to us — indeed, has already been useful in
. determining our route.

Journal, Sept, 7. — ^We returned home after an expedition into
Brittany. Our course was from Boulogne to St. Valdry,
Dieppe, Rouen, Caen, Bayeux, St. L6, Vire, Avranches,
Dol, St. Malo, Rennes, Avray, and Carnac — back by
Nantes, Tours, Le Mans, Chartres, Paris, Rouen,
Dieppe, Abbeville, and so again to Boulogne.

Jjstterto We came home again on Thursday night — this day

HenncU, week — after a month's absence in Normandy and Brit*

14th Sept. ^

»865. tany. I have been thinking of you very often since,
but believed that you did not care to have the inter-
ruption of letters just now, and would rather defer cor-
respondence till your mind was freer. If I had sus-
pected that you would feel any want satisfied by a let-
ter I should certainly have written. I had not heard
of Miss Bonham Carter's death, else I should have
conceived something of your state of mind. I think
you and I are alike in this, that we can get no good
out of pretended comforts, which are the devices of
self-love, but would rather, in spite of pain, grow into
the endurance of all " naked truths." So I say no
word about your great loss, except that I love you, and
sorrow with you.

The circumstances of life — the changes that take
place in ourselves — hem in the expression of affections
and memories that live within us, and enter almost into
every day, and long separations often make intercourse
difficult when the opportunity comes. But the delight
I had in you, and in the hours we spent together, and
in all your acts of friendship to me, is really part of
my life, and can never die out of me. I see distinctly
how much poorer I should have been if I had never

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1865-] Affectix)n for Miss HennelL 297

known you. If you had seen more of me in late years, Jfj^%*°
you would not have such almost cruel thoughts as that ^^J**!"*^
the book into which you have faithfully put your experi- ^^^
ehce and best convictions could make you " repugnant "
to me. Whatever else my growth may have been, it has
not been towards irreverence and ready rejection of
what other minds can give me. You once unhappily
mistook my feeling and point of view in something I
wrote apropos of an argument in your " Aids to Faith,"
and that made me think it better that we should not
write on large and difficult subjects in hasty letters.
But it has often been painful to me — I should say, it
has constantly been painful to me — that you have ever
since inferred me to be in a hard and unsympathetic
state about your views and your writing. But I am
habitually disposed myself to the same unbelief in the
sympathy that is given me, and am the last person who
should be allowed to complain of such unbelief in an-
other. And it is very likely that I may have been
faulty and disagreeable in my expressions.

Excuse all my many mistakes, dear Sara, and never
believe otherwise than that I have a glow of joy when
you write to me, as if my existence were some good to
you. I know that I am, and can be, very little prac-
tically ; but to have the least value for your thought is
what I care much to be assured of.

Perhaps, in the cooler part of the autumn, when your
book is out of your hands, you will like to move from
home a little and see your London friends?

Our travelling in Brittany was a good deal marred
and obstructed by the emperor's/?/^, which sent all the
world on our tracl^ towards Cherbourg and Brest.
But the Norman churches, the great cathedrals at
Le Mans, Tours, and Chartres, with their marvel-

11.-13* ^ ,

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298 Goethe on Spinoza. [The Priory,

lous painted glass, were worth much scrambling to

I^rtter to I have read Mr. Masson's book on " Recent Phi-

MissSara

Hem^i, losophy." The earlier part is a useful and creditable
>865. survey, and the classification ingenious. The later
part I thought poor. If, by what he says of Positivism,
you mean what he says at p. 246, 1 should answer it is
simply "stuff" — ^he might as well have written a dozen
lines of jargon. There are a few observations about
Comte, scattered here and there, which are true and
just enough. But it seems to me much better to read
a man's own writing than to read what others say
about him, especially when the man is first-rate and
the "others " are third-rate. As Goethe said long ago
about Spinoza, " Ich zog immer vor von dem Men-
schen zu erfahren wie er dachte als von einem anderen
^u horen wie er hdite denken sollen^ * However, I am
not fond of expressing criticism or disapprobation.
The difficulty is to digest and live upon any valuable
truth one's self,
jonroai, Nov. 1 5. — During the last three weeks George has
been very poorly, but now he is better. I have been
reading Fawcett's " Economic Condition of the Work-
ing Classes," Mill's " Liberty," looking into Strauss's
second "Life of Jesus," and reading Neale's "History
of the Puritans," of which I have reached the fourth
volume. Yesterday the news came of Mrs. Gaskell's
death. She died suddenly, while reading aloud to her
daughter.

Nov. 16. — Writing Mr. Lyon's stor}', which I have
determined to insert as a narrative. Reading the Bible.

» *' I always preferred to learn from the man himself what h€
thought, rather than to hear from some one else what he ought to
have thought^'*

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1865.] Tyndall on the Higher Physics. 299

Nov, 24. — Finished Neale's "History of the Puri-Jj«n»i»
tans." Began Hallam's " Middle Ages."

Dec. 4. — Finished second volume of Hallam. The
other day read to the end of chapter nine of my novel
to George, who was much pleased and found no fault.

We send to-day "Orley Farm," "The Small House 5f«*J.JJ,,
at Allington," and the "Story of Elizabeth." The^*^;^^
"Small House "is rather lighter than "Orley Farm."
"The Story of Elizabeth " is by Miss Thackeray. It
is not so cheerful as TroUope, but is charmingly writ-
ten. You can taste it and reject it if it is too melan-
choly. I think more of you than you are likely to
imagine, and I believe we taJk of you all more than of
any other mortals.

It is worth your while to send for the last Fortnight- Jf***'^*®
ly to read an article of Professor TyndalFs "On the Henneii,
Constitution of the Universe." It is a splendid piece 'S^s.
of writing on the higher physics, which I know will in-
terest you. Apropos of the feminine intellect, I had a
bit of experience with a superior woman the other day,
which reminded me of Sydney Smith's story about his
sermon on the Being of a God. He says, that after
he had delivered his painstaking argument, an old
parishioner said to him, " I don't agree wi' you, Mr.
Smith; I think there be a God:*

Dec. 11. — For the last three days I have been Journal,

'' 1865.

foundering from a miserable state of head. I have

written chapter ten. This evening read again Macau-
lay's Introduction.

Dec. 15. — To-day is the first for nearly a week on
which I have been able to write anything fresh. I am
reading Macaulay and Blackstone. This evening we Letter to
went to hear " The Messiah " at Exeter Hall. HinndT

"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year" is aJws. ^

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300 Last Days of 1865. [The Priory,

Jitter to sort of hieroglyph for I love you and wish you well all
Henndi, the year round. Christmas to me is like a great lii^ny
"865. other pleasures, which I am glad to imagine as enjoyed
by others, but have no delight in myself. Berried holly
and smiling faces and snap-dragon, grandmamma and
the children, turkey and plum-pudding — they are all
precious things, and I would not have the world with-
out them ; but they tire me a little. I enjoy the com-
mon days of the year more. But for the sake of those
who are stronger I rejoice in Christmas.

Journal, Dec 24. — For two days I have been sticking in the
1865. ^ "^ "^ .

mud from doubt about my construction. I have just

consulted G., and he confirms my choice of incidents.

Dec. 31. — The last day of 1865. I will say nothing

but that I trust — I will strive — to add more ardent

effort towards a good result from all the outward good

that is given to me. My health is at a lower ebb

than usual, and so is George's. Bertie is spending his

holidays with us, and shows hopeful characteristics^

Charles is happy.

SUMMARY,

JANUARY, 1862, TO DECEMBER, 1865.

Begins **Romola" again — Letter to Miss Hennell — Max Miil-
ler*s book—" Orley Farm "— Anthpny Trollope— T. A. Trollope's
" Beata " — Acquaintance with Mr. Burton and Mr. W. G. Clark
— George Smith, publisher, suggests a ** magnificent offer'* — De-
pression about ** Romola " — Letter to Mrs. Bray asking for loan
uf music — Pantomime — First visit to Dorking — Letter to Madame
Bodichon — Impatience of concealment — Anxiety about war with
America — Sympathy with queen-^Mr. Lewes begins "History
of Science" — Mrs. Browning's "Casa Guidi Windows" — De-
pression — George Smith offers ;^io,ooo for ** Romola" for the
Cornhill — Idea given up — Visit to Englefield Green — Working
under a weight — Second visit to Dorking for three weeks — ^De-
light in spring — Accepts ;f7000 for "Romola "in Conthill — Re-

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1862-65] Summary of Cfiapter XII. 301

gret at leaving Blackwood — Palsy in writing — Visit to Little-
hampton and to Dorking third time — Letter to Mrs. Congreve

— Mr. Lewes at Spa — George Eliot in better spirits — Letter to
Miss Hennell — ^Joachim's playing— New Literary Club— Reading
Poliziano — Suggestion of Tennyson's " Palace of Art " — Visit from
Browning — Depression — Letter to Madame Bodichon— No nega-
tive propaganda— Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor— "The Messiah"
on Christmas day— Letter to Miss Hennell— St. Paul's "Char-
ity "—The Poetry of Christianity— The Bible— Adieu to year 1862

— Letter to Miss Hennell — Encouragement about "Romola" —
Literary Club dissolves — Miss Cobbe — Letter to Mrs. Congreve
—Depression — Fourth visit to Dorking for fortnight— Letter to
Charles Lewes on Thackeray's Lectures — ^The effect of writing
"Romola"— Letter to Madame Bodichon— Odiousness of intel-
lectual superciliousness — Letter to Mrs. Bray— Thinking of the
Priory— "Romola" finished— Inscription— Visit to Isle of Wight
— Ristori — Letter to Miss Hennell — Thornton Lewes— London
amusements — Opera — Reading Mommsen, Liddell's " Rome," and
" Roba di Roma"— Letter from Frederick Maurice referred to as
most generous tribute ever given — ^Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor—
Renan's **Vie de J^sus"— Visit to Worthing— Mrs. Hare— Re-
turn to I^ndon— Depression— Letter to R. H. Hutton on "Ro-
mola" — The importance of the medium in which characters move
— Letter to Madame Bodichon — ^Effect of London on health — Let-
ter to Mrs. Bray — ^Delight in autumn — Mommsen's History— Let-
ter to Mrs. Congreve — The "Discours Pr^liminaire" — Removal
to the Priory — Mr. Owen Jones decorates the house — ^Jansa the
violinist — Letter to Mrs. Bray — "Physiology for Schools" — Let-
ter to Madame Bodichon — Enjoying rest, and music with Jansa
— Letter to Miss Hennell— Renan— Letter to Mrs. Bray — Enjoy-
ment of Priory — Letter to Mrs. Congreve— ^Mr. Lewes's " Aris-
totle "finished— Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor — Compensation — Let-
ter to Mrs. P. A. Taylor— Effect of sunshine— Death of Mrs. Hare
— " David Gray "—Letter to Miss Hennell— Dislike of note-writ-
ing— Visit to Glasgow— Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor— Joy in
Federal successes — Crystal Palace to see Garibaldi— Mr. Burton's
picture of a t-egendary Knight in Armor — ^Third visit to Italy
with Mr. Burton for seven weeks — Return to London — Charles
Lewes's engagement to Miss Gertrude Hill — Pleasure in Mr. Bur-
ton's companionship in travel — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Present

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302 Summary of Chapter XIL [1862^5.

of mats — Depression— Reading Gibbon — Gieseler — Letter-to Miss
Hennell — Reading Max Miiller — Reference to the "Apologia"
— Newman — Reading about Spain — Trying a drama — Letter to
Miss Hennell — Harrogate — Development of Industries — Scar-
borough — Letters to Mrs. Congreve — Pleasure in her visit —
Letter to Miss Hennell — Learning Spanish — ^IVo acts of drama
written — Sticking in construction of remainder — Letter to Mrs.
Congreve — Christmas greeting — Retrospect of year 1864— Letter
to Mrs. Congreve, first payment to Positivist Fund — Com-
parison with " small upper room " 1866 years ago— Mrs. Congreve
staying at the Priory — Poem **My Vegetarian Friend " written —
Visit to Paris — Letter to Mrs. Congreve— Visit to Comte's apart-
ment in Paris — Finished poem on " Utopias " — Letter to Miss
Sara Hennell — Delight in dual %cX\\xAi^^Fortmghtly Review —
Letter to Mrs. Congreve — Charades — Depression — Mr. Lewes
takes away drama— Article for the Pall Mall^ " A Word for the
Germans" — Letter to Mrs. Congreve— Visit to Wandsworth—
Depression— Letter to Mrs. Congreve after visit— Letter to Mrs.
Bray on a young friend's death — Deep depression — Admiration
of Mr. Lewes's good spirits — " Felix Holt " begun — Article on
Lecky's "History of Rationalism*" in /^<;r/;//^i5//v — Reading
iEschylus, " Theatre of the Greeks "—Klein's " History of the
Drama" — Letter to Mrs. Congreve — ^First number of the ForU
nightly— Yx^ditnz Harrison's article— Reading Mill, Comte, and
Blackstone — Aristotle's "Poetics" — Dine with Congreves at
Wandsworth—" Faust " at Covent Garden — Sunday reception —
Browning, Huxley, and Bagehot— Letter to Mrs. Peter Taylor
on J. S. Mill — ^The Forttiightly Review— Wc, Burton's portrait
finished— Mazzini subscription — Letter of adieu to Mrs. Congreve
— ^Expedition to Brittany for month — Letter to Miss Hennell —
" Pretended comforts " — Recollection of early feelings — Delight in
her friendship— Masson's "Recent Philosophy" — Comte — GoetKe
on Spinoza — Reading Fawcett's " Economic Condition of Work-
ing Classes"— Mill's "Liberty"— Strauss's second "Life of Jesus"
— Neale's " History of the Puritans "— Hallam's "Middle Ages "—
Letter to Miss Hennell on Tyndall's article on " The Constitution
of the Universe " — ^View of Christmas day — Retrospect of 1865.

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CHAPTER XIII.

I HAVE had it in my mind to write to you for niany l^^^, ^^
days, wanting to tell you, yet feeling there might be Ha^S>n,
some impertinence in doing so, of the delight and f J^*°'
gratitude I felt in reading your article on " Industrial
Co-operation." Certain points admirably brought out
in that article would, I think, be worth the labor of a
life if one could help in winning them thorough recog-
nition. I don't mean that my thinking so is of any
consequence, but simply that it is of consequence to
tne when I find your energetic writing confirm my own
faith.

It would be fortunate for us if you had nothing bet-
ter to do than look in on us on Tuesday evening.
Professor Huxley will be with us, and one or two
others whom you know, and your presence would make
JUS all the brighter.

- yan, 9. — Professors Huxley and Beesley, Mr. Bur-Jj^^ai,
ton, and Mr. Spencer dined with us. Mr. Harrison in
the evening.

The ample and clear statement you have sent me Letter to

. , , . , , ...... Frederic

With kmd promptness has put me in high spirits — as Harrison,
high spirits as can belong to an unhopeful author. 1866.
Your hypothetical case of a settlement suits my needs
surprisingly well. I shall be thankful to let Sugden
alone, and throw myself entirely on your goodness, es-
pecially as what I want is simply a basis of legal pos-
sibilities and not any command of details. I want to
be sure that my chords will not offend a critic accom-

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304 Mr. Harrisons Legal Help. [Tue Pwory,

Let^to plished in thorough bass — not at all to present an ex-
Harmoo, ercise in thorough bass.

ijth Jan. *

1866. I was going to write you a long story, but, on con-

sideration, it seems to me that I sliould tax your time
less, and arrive more readily at a resolution of my
doubts on various points not yet mentioned to you, if
you could let me speak instead of writing to you.

On Wednesday afternoons I am always at home;
but on any day when I could be sure of your coming
I would set everything aside for the sake of a consul-
tation so valuable to me.

^SST*** •^^"' ^^' — ^^^ ^^ ^^^' fortnight I have been unusu-
ally disabled by ill-health. I have been consulting
Mr. Harrison about the law in my book, with satisfac-
tory result.
Letter to I had not any opportunity, or not enough presence
Harrison, of mind, to tcll you yesterday how much I felt your
>866. kindness in writing me that last little note of sym-
pathy.

In proportion as compliments (always beside the
mark) are discouraging and nauseating, at least to a
writer who has any serious aims, genuine words from
one capable of understanding one's conceptions are
precious and strengthening.

Yet I have no confidence that the book will ever be
worthily written. And now I have something else to
ask. It is that if anything strikes you as untrue in
cases where my drama has a bearing on monientous
questions, especially of a public nature, you will do me
the great kindness to tell me of your doubts.

On a few moral points, which have been made clear
to me by my experience, I feel sufficiently confident —
without such confidence I could not write at all. But
in every other direction I am so much in need of fuller

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i866.] Reading Cotnies ^^Synthhe^ 305

instruction as to be constantly under the sense that I ?:««««• *<>

... , , f . , Frederic

am more hkely to be wrong than right Harrison,

Hitherto I have read my MS. (I mean of my previ- 1866.
ous books) to Mr. Lewes, by forty or fifty pages at a
time, and he has told me if he felt an objection to any-
thing. No one else has had any knowledge of my
writings before their publication. (I except, of course,
the publishers.)

But now that you are good enough to incur the
trouble of reading my MS., I am anxious to get the
full benefit of your participation.

We arrived here on Tuesday, and have been walk- Letter to

•" Mre. Con-

ing about four hours each day, and the walks are so sreve, 28th

. , , . , t , Jan. 1866.

various that each time we have turned out we have
found a new one. George is already much the better
for the perfect rest, quiet, and fresh air. Will you give
my thanks to Mr, Congreve for the " Synthase " which
I have brought with me and am reading ? I expect
to understand three chapters well enough to get some
edification.

George had talked of our taking the train to Dover
to pay you a "morning call." He observes that it
would have been a " dreadful sell " if we had done so.
Your letter, therefore, was providential — and without
doubt it came from a dear little Providence of mine
that sits in your heart.

I have received lioth your precious letters — the sec- Letter to
ond edition of the case, and the subsequent note. The Harrison,

' ^ 31st Jan.

Story is sufficiently in the track of ordinary probability ; >866.
and the careful trouble you have so generously given
to it has enabled me to feel a satisfaction in my plot
which beforehand I had sighed for as unattainable.

There is still a question or two which I shall want
to ask you, but I am afraid of taxing your time and

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306 Low Health. [The Priory,

Letter to patience in an unconscionable manner. So, since we

Fredenc

Harnaon, exDCct to rctum to town at the end of next week, I

31st Jan. ^

»866. think I will reserve my questions until I have the
pleasure and advantage of an interview with you, in
which pros and cms can be more rapidly determined
than by letter. It seems to me that you have fitted
my phenomena with a rationale quite beautifully. If
there is any one who could have done it better, I am
sure I know of no man who would. Please to put
your help of me among your good deeds for this year
of 1866.

To-day we have resolute rain, for the first time since

we came down. You don't yet know what it is to be

a sickly wretch, dependent on these skyey influences.

But Heine says illness "spiritualizes the members."

It had need do some good in return for one's misery.

Letter to Thanks for your kind letter. Alas 1 we had chiefly

Henneii, bad wcather in the country. George was a little bene-

1866. fited, but only a little. He is too far " run down " to

be wound up in a very short time. We enjoyed our

return to our comfortable house, and, perhaps, that

freshness of home was the chief gain from our absence.

You see, to counterbalance all the great and good

things that life has given us beyond what our fellows

have, we hardly know now what it is to be free from

bodily malaise.

After the notion I have given you of my health you
will not wonder if I say that I don't know when any-
thing of mine will appear. I can never reckon on my-
self.
Journal, March 7. — I am reading Mill's "Logic" again.
Theocritus still, and English History and Law.

March 17. — To St James's Hall hearing Joachim,
Piatti, and HalM in glorious Beethoven music.

1/

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i866.] Writing under Difficulties. 307

Don't think any evil of me for not writing. Just Letter to
now the days are short, and art is long to artists with "5"J*J^
feeble bodies. If people don't say expressly that they >866.
want anything from me, I easily conclude that they
will do better without me, and have a good weight of
idleness, or, rather, bodily fatigue, which puts itself
into the scale of modesty. I torment myself less with
fruitless regrets that my particular life has not been
more perfect. The young things are growing, and to
me it is not melancholy but joyous that the world will
be brighter after I am gone than it has been in the
brief time of my existence. You see my pen runs into
very old reflections. The fact is, I have no details to
tell that would much interest you. It is true that I
am going to bring out another book^ but just when is
not certain.

The happiness in your letter was delightful to me, Letter to
as you guessed it would be. See how much better Bodidion,

^ ^ 10th April,

things may turn out for all mankind, since they mend 1866.
for single mortals even in this confused state of the
bodies social and politic.

As soon as we can leave we shall go away, probably
to Germany, for six weeks or so. But that will not be
till June. I am finishing a book which has been grow-
ing slowly, like a sickly child, because of my own ail-
ments ; but now I am in the later acts of it I can't
move till it is done.

You know all the news, public and private — all
about the sad cattle plague, and the reform bill, and
who is going to be married and who is dead — so I
need tell you nothing. You will find the English world
extremely like what it was when you left it — conversa-
tion more or less trivial and insincere, literature just
now not much better, and politics worse than either.

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3o8 " The Art of Living^ [The Priory,

Jg*»te Bring some sincerity and energy to make a little
^dichoo. draught of pure air in your particular world, I shall
>866. expect you to be a heroine in the best sense, now you
are happier after a time of suffering. See what a tal-
ent I have for telling other people to be good !

We are getting patriarchal, and think of old age and
death as journeys not far off All knowledge, all
thought, all achievement seems more precious and en-
joyable to me than it ever was before in life. But as
soon as one has found the key of life, " it opes the
gates of death." Youth has not learned the art of liv-
ing, and we go on bungling till our experience can
only serve us for a very brief space. That is the " ex-
ternal order " we must submit to.

I am too busy to write except when I am tired, and
don't know very well what to say, so you must not be
surprised if I write in a dreamy way.

Journal, April 21. — Sent MS. of two volumes to Blackwood.
1866.

April 25. — Blackwood has written to offer me ;fsooo

for " Felix Holt." I have been ailing, and uncertain

in my strokes, and yesterday got no further than p. 52

of Vol. III.

Letter It is a great pleasure to me to be writing to you

Bj^- again, as in the old days. After your kind letters, I am

Aprii!i866. chiefly anxious that the publication of " Felix Holt "

may be a satisfaction to you from beginning to end.

Mr. Lewes writes about other business matters, so I

will only say that I am desirous to have the proofs as

soon and as rapidly as will be practicable.

They will require correcting with great care, and

there are large spaces in the day when I am unable to

write, in which I could be attending to my proofs.

I think I ought to tell you that I have consulted a

legal friend about my law, to guard against errors.

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i866.] Return to Blackwood's. 309

The friend is a Chancery barrister, who "ought ^^\^i^

know." Black-

wood, 35th

After I had written the first volume, I applied toAprii,i866.
him, and he has since read through my MS.

How very good it was of you to write me a letter better
which is a guarantee to me of the pleasantest kind that bi^-^ ^^
I have made myself understood. April, 1866.

The tone of the prevalent literature just now is not
encouraging to a writer who at least wishes to be seri-
ous and sincere ; and, owing to my want of health, a
great deal of this book has been written under so
much depression as to its practical effectiveness that
I have sometimes been ready to give it up.

Your letter has made me feel, more strongly than
any other testimony, that it would have been a pity if
I had listened to the tempter Despondency. I took
a great deal of pains to get a true idea of the period.
My own recollections of it are childish, and of course
disjointed, but they help to illuminate my reading.
I went through the Times of 1832-33 at the British
Museum, to be sure of as many details as I could. It
is amazing what strong language was used in those
days, especially about the Churcli. " Bloated plural-
ists," "Stall-fed dignitaries," etc., are the sort of
phrases conspicuous. There is one passage of proph-
ecy which I longed to quote, but I thought it wiser
to abstain. " Now, the beauty of the Reform Bill is
that, under its mature operation, the people must and
will become free agents " — a prophecy which I hope is
true, only the maturity of the operation has not arrived
yet.

Mr. Lewes is well satisfied with the portion of the
third volume already written ; and, as I am better in
health just now, I hope to go on with spirit, especially

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3IO Flight to Dorking. [The Prioey,

L««ter with the help of your cordial sympathy. I trust you
Black- will see, when it comes, that the third volume is the

wood, a7th '

April, 1866. natural issue prepared for by the first and second.
Letter to A thousand thanks for your note. Do not worry

Frederic ,, , . , > ^

Harrison, yourself SO much about those two questions that you
!m6. will be forced to hate me. On Tuesday next we are to
go to Dorking for probably a fortnight. I wished you
to read the first hundred pages of my third volume ;
but I fear now that I must be content to wait and send
you a duplicate proof of a chapter or two that are like-
ly to make a lawyer shudder by their poetic license.
Please to be in great distress sometime for want of
my advice, and tease me considerably to get it, th^t I
may prove my grateful memory of these days.
Letter To-morrow we go— Mr. Lewes's bad health driving

Black-" us — to Dorking, where everything will reach me as
Ap^t^ quickly as in London.

I am in a horrible fidget about certain points which
I want to be sure of in correcting my proofs. They
are chiefly two questions. I wish to know,

1. Whether,in Napoleon's war with England, after the
breaking-up of the Treaty of Amiens, the seizure and
imprisonment of civilians was exceptional, or whether
it was continued throughout the war.^

2. Whether, in 1833, in the case of transportation to
one of the colonies, when the sentence did not involve
hard labor, the sentenced person might be at large on
his arrival in the colony?

It is possible you may have some one near at hand
who will answer these questions. I am sure you will
help me if you can, and will sympathize in my anxiety
not to have even an allusion that involves practical
impossibilities.

One can never be perfectly accurate, even with one's*
best effort, but the effort must be made.

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1866.] ''Felix Holt " Finished. 3 1 1

May 31.— Finished "Felix Holt." Jo«n»ai.

The manuscript bears the following inscription :
" From George Eliot to her dear Husband, this thir-
teenth year of their united life, in which the deepening
sense of her own imperfectness has the consolation of
their deepening love."

My last hope of seeing you before we start has van- J***V<*
ishdd. I find that the things urged upon me to besrevcsth

,,,,.. , , - Junc» 1866.

done m addition to my own small matters of prepara-
tion will leave me no time to enjoy anything that I
should have chosen if I had been at leisure. Last
Thursday only I finished writing, in a state of nervous
excitement that had been making my head throb and
my heart palpitate all the week before. As soon as I
had finished I felt well. You know how we had
counted on a parting sight of you ; and I should have
particularly liked to see Emily and witness the good
effect of Derbyshire. But send us a word or two if
you can, just to say how you all three are. AVe start
on Thursday evening for Brussels. Then to Antwerp,
the Hague, and Amsterdam. Out of Holland we are
to find our way to Schwalbach. Let your love go with
us, as mine will hover about you and all yours — that
group of three which the word " Wandsworth " ialways
means for us.

I finished writing ("Felix Holt") on the last day of ifJ^^Bray^
May, after days and nights of throbbing and palpita- fg^""**
tion — chiefly, I suppose, from a nervous excitement
which I was not strong enough to support well. As
soon as I had done I felt better, and have been a new
creature ever since, though a little overdone with visits
from friends and attention {miserabile dictu /) to petti-
coats, etc.

I can't help being a little vexed that the course of

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312 Description. [Schwalbach,

Utter to things hinders my having the great delight of seeing

6ihjuiie, you again, during this visit to town. Now that my
mind is quite free, I don't know anything I should have
chosen sooner than to have a long, long quiet day with
you.

Jjgraai* June 7. — Set off on our journey to Holland.

Letter to I wish you could know how idle I feel, how utterly

B>sth disinclined to anything but mere self-indulgence ; be-
cause that knowledge would enable you to estimate
bach. the affection and anxiety which prompt me to write m
spite of disinclination. June is so far gone, that by the
time you get this letter you will surely have some re-
sult of the examination to tell me of; and I can't bear
to deprive myself of that news by not letting you know
where we are. " In Paradise," George says ; but the
Paradise is in the fields and woods of beech and fir,
where we walk in uninterrupted solitude in spite of
the excellent roads and delightful resting-places, which
seem to have been prepared for visitors in general.
The promenade, where the ladies — chiefly Russian
and German, with only a small sprinkling of English
and Americans. — display their ornamental petticoats
and various hats, is only the outskirt of Paradise ; but
we amuse ourselves there for an hour or so in the ear-
ly morning and evening, listening to the music and
learning the faces of our heighbors. There is a defi-
ciency of men, children, and dogs, otherwise the winding
walks, the luxuriant trees and grass, and the abundant
seats of the promenade have every charm one can ex-
pect at a German bath. We arrived here last Thurs-
day, after a fortnight spent in Belgium and Holland ;
and we still fall to interjections of delight whenever
we walk out — first at the beauty of the place, and next
at our own happiness in not having been frightened

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i866.] The AustrO'Prussian War. 313

away from it by the predictions of travellers and hotel- Letter to
keepers, that we should find no one here — that the greve, 25th

^ ' June, x866.

Prussians would break up the railways, etc., etc. —
Nassau being one of the majority of small states who
are against Prussia. I fear we are a little in danger
of becoming like the Burger in " Faust," and making it
too much the entertainment of our holiday to have a

" Gesprach von Krieg und Kriegsgeschrei
Wenn hinten, weit, in der Turkei,
Die Volker auf einander schlagen."

Idle people are so eager for newspapers that tell
them of other people's energetic enthusiasm I A few
soldiers are quartered here, and we see them wisely
using their leisure to drink at the Brunnen. They are
the only suggestion of war that meets our eyes among
these woody hills. Already we feel great benefit from
our quiet journeying and repose. George is looking
remarkably well, and seems to have nothing the mat-
ter with him. You know how magically quick his re-
coveries seem. I am too refined to say anything about
our excellent quarters and good meals; but one detail,
I know, will touch your sympathy. We dine in our
own room ! It would have marred the Kur for me if
I had had every day to undergo a table d^hbte where
almost all the guests are English, presided over by the
British chaplain. Please dibn't suspect me of being
scornful towards my fellow countrymen or women:
the fault is all mine that I am miserably ^nke by the
glances of strange eyes.

We want news from you to complete our satisfaction,
and no one can give it but yourself. Send us as many
matter-of-fact details as you have the patience to write.
We shall not be here after the 4th, but at Schlangenbad. MiSi^cSi-

We got home last night, after a rough passage from A^gMed.

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314 Return Home from Schwalbach. [The Priory,

utterto Ostend. You have been so continually a recurrent
p«ve.|d thought to me ever since I had your letter at Schwal-
bach, that it is only natural I should write to you as
soon as I am at my old desk again. The news of Mr.
Congreve's examination being over made me feel for
several days that something had happened which
caused me unusual lightness of heart. I would not
dwell on the possibility of your having to leave Wands-
worth, which, I know, would cause you many sacri-
fices. I clung solely to the great, cheering fact that a
load of anxiety had been lifted from Mr. Congreve's
mind. May we not put in a petition for some of his
time now t And will he not come with you and Emily
to dine with us next week, on any day except Wednesv
day and Friday ? The dinner-hour seems more propi-
tious for talk and enjoyment than lunch-time; but in
all respects choose what will best suit your health and
habits — only let us see you.
Letter to We returned from our health-seeking journey on
Harrison, Thursday evening, and your letter was the most de-
1866. lightful thing that awaited me at home. Be sure it
will be much read and meditated ; and may I not take
it as an earnest that your help, which has already done
so much for me, will be continued? I mean, that you
will help me by your thoughts and your sympathy —
not that you will be teased with my proofs.

I meant to write you a long letter about the aesthetic

problem ; but Mr. Lewes, who is still tormented with

headachy effects from our rough passage, comes and

asks me to walk to Hampstead with him, so I send

these hasty lines. Come and see us soon.

to^john ^^ S°' home on Thursday evening, and are still

w!j3r4th f^seling some unpleasant effects from our very rough

Aug. 1866. passage — an inconvenience which we had waited some

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i866.] Colonel Hamley. 3 1 5

day3 at Ostend to avoid. But the wind took no notice Letter

' to John

of US, and went on blowing. Black-

' ** wood, 4th

I was much pleased with the handsome appearance Aug. 1866.
of the three volumes which were lying ready for me.
My hatred of bad paper and bad* print, and my love
of their opposites, naturally get stronger as my eyes get
weaker ; and certainly that taste could hardly be better
gratified than it is by Messrs. Blackwood & Sons.

Colonel Hamley's volume is another example of
that fact. It lies now on my revolving desk as one
of the books I mean first to read. I am really grate-
ful to have such a medium of knowledge, and I expect
it to make some pages of history much less dim to me.
^ My impression of Colonel Hamley, when we had that
pleasant dinner at Greenwich, and afterwards when he
called in Blandford Square, was quite in keeping with
the high opinion you express. Mr. Lewes liked the ar-
ticle on "Felix" in the Magazine very much. He read
it the first thing yesterday morning, and told me it was
written in a nice spirit, and the extracts judiciously
made.

I have had a delightful holiday, and find my double J^*j^*si?a
self very much the better for it. We made a great ^fjj Aui
round in our journeying. From Antwerp to Rotter- '^^
dam, the Hague, Leyden, Amsterdam, Cologne ; then
up the Rhine to Coblentz, and thence to Schwalbach,
where we stayed a fortnight. From Schwalbach to
Schlarngenbad, where we stayed till we feared the
boats would cease to go to and fro ; and, in fact, only
left just in time to get down the Rhine to Bonn by the
Dutch steamer. From Bonn, after two days, we went
to Aix ; then to dear old Li^ge, where we had been
together thirteen years before ; and, to avoid the King
of the Belgians, ten minutes backwards to the baths

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3l6 The Miracle Play. [The Priory,

Letterto of prettv Chaudfontainc, where we remained three
HenndU days. Then to Louvam, Ghent, and Bruges ; and, last
1866. ' of all, to Ostend, where we waited for a fine day and
calm sea, until we secured — a very rough passage in-
deed.

Ought we not to be a great deal wiser and more
efficient personages, or else to be ashamed of our-
selves? Unhappily, this last alternative is not a com-
pensation for wisdom.

I thought of you — to mention one occasion among
many — when we had the good fortune, at Antwerp, to
see a placard announcing that the company from the
Ober-Ammergau, Bavaria, would represent, that Sun-
day evening, the Lebensgeschichte of our Saviour Christ,
at the Theatre des Varidtds. I remembered that you
had seen the representation with deep interest— and
these actors are doubtless the successors of those you
saw. Of course we went to the theatre. And the
Christ was, without exaggeration, beautiful. All the
rest was inferior^ and might even have had a painful
approach to the ludicrous ; but both the person and
the action of the Jesus were fine enough to overpower
all meaner impressions. Mr. Lewes, who, you know,
is keenly alive to everything " stagey " in physiognomy
a.nd gesture, felt what I am saying quite as much as I
did, and was much moved.

Rotterdam, with the grand approach to it by the
broad river ; the rich red brick of the houses ; the
canals, uniformly planted with trees, and crowded with
the bright brown masts of the Dutch boats — is far
finer than Amsterdam. The color of Amsterdam is
ugly; the houses are of a chocolate color, almost black
(an artificial tinge given to the bricks), and the wood-
work on them screams out in ugly patches of cream-

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i866.] Jewish Worship. 317

color : the canals have no trees along their sides, and l«««' *<>

^ ° ' Miss Sara

the boats are infrequent. We looked about for the Hcmneii,

^ xoth Aug.

very Portuguese synagogue where Spinoza was nearly »866.
assassinated as he came from worship. But it no
longer exists. There are no less than three Portuguese
synagogues now — very large and handsome. And in
the evening we went to see the worship there. Not a
woman was present, but of devout men not a few — a
curious reversal of what one sees in other temples.
The chanting and the swaying about of the bodies
— almost a wriggling — are not beautiful to the sense;
but I fairly cried at witnessing this faint symbolism of
a religion of sublime, far-off memories. The skulls of
St. Ursula's eleven thousand virgins seem a modern
suggestion compared with the Jewish Synagogue. At
Schwalbach and Schlangenbad our life was led chiefly
in the beech woods, which we had all to ourselves,
the guests usually confining themselves to the nearer
promenades. The guests, of course, were few in that
serious time; and between war and cholera we felt
our position as health — and pleasure — seekers some-
what contemptible.

There is no end to what one could say, if one did
not feel that long letters cut pieces not to be spared
out of the solid day.

I think I have earned that you should write me one
of those perfect letters in which you make me see ev-
erything you like about yourself and others.

Aug, 30. — I have taken up the idea of my drama, journal,
"The Spanish Gypsy," again, and am reading on
Spanish subjects — Bouterwek, Sismondi, Depping,
Llorante, etc. Letter to

I have read several times your letter of the 19th, hSSSu,
which I found awaiting me on my return, and I shall JiSl^"**

11.-14* ^ ,

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3 1 8 Need of Sympathy. [The Priory,

Lj*^rto read it many times again. Pray do not even say, or
Harriaoo. inwardly suspect, that anything you take the trouble
■866. *^to write to me will not be valued. On the contrary,
,' please to imagine as well as you can the experience
; of a mind morbidly desponding, of a consciousness
I tending more and more to consist in memories of
error and imperfection rather than in a strengthening
sense of achievement — and then consider how such a
mind must need the support of sympathy and approval
from those who are capable of understanding its aims.
I assure you your letter is an evidence of a fuller un-
derstanding than I have ever had expressed to me be-
fore. And if I needed to give emphasis to this simple
statement, I should suggest to you all the miseries
one's obstinate egoism endures from the fact of being
a writer of novels — books which the dullest and silliest
reader thinks himself competent to deliver an opinion
on. But I despise myself for feeling any annoyance
at these trivial things.

That is a tremendously difficult problem which you
have laid before me ; and I think you see its difficul-
ties, though they can hardly press upon you as they do
on me, who have gone through again and again the
severe effort of trying to make certain ideas thorough^
ly incarnate, as if they had revealed themselves to me
first in the flesh and not in the spirit. I think aesthetic
teaching is the highest of all teaching, because it deals
with life in its highest complexity. But if it ceases to
be purely aesthetic — if it lapses anywhere from the
picture to the diagram — it becomes the most offensive
of all teaching. Avowed Utopias are not offensive,
because they are understood to have a scientific and
expository character : they do not pretend to work on
the emotions, or couldn't do it if they did pretend. I

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i866.] Preparation for ^^Romola** 319

am sure, from your own statement, that you see this ^^H^l
quite clearly. Well, then, consider the sort of agoniz- J^J£^"'
ing labor to an English-fed imagination to make out«866.
a sufficiently real background for the desired picture
— to get breathing, individual forms, and group them
in the needful relations, so that the presentation will
lay hold on the emotions as human experience — will,
as you say, "flash" conviction on the world by means
of aroused sympathy.

I took unspeakable pains in preparing to write
" Romola " — neglecf ing nothing I could find that would
help me to what I may call the " idiom " of Florence,
in the largest sense one could stretch the word to;
and then I was only trying to give some out of the nor-
mal relations. I felt that the necessary idealization
could only be attained by adopting the clothing of the
past. And again, it is my way (rather too much so,
perhaps) to urge the human sanctities through tragedy
— through pity and terror, as well as admiration and
delight. I only say all this to show the tenfold ardu-
ousness of such a work as the one your problem de-
mands. On the other hand, my whole soul goes with
your desire that it should be done ; and I shall at least
keep the great possibility (or impossibility) perpetually
in my mind, as something towards which I must strive,
though it may be that I can do so only in a fragmentary
way.

At present I am going to take up again a work which
I laid down before writing " Felix." It is — but^please^
let this he a secret between ourselves — an attempt at a
drama, which I put aside at Mr. Lewes's request, after
writing four acts, precisely because it was in that stage
of creation — or Werden — in which the idea of the char-
acters predominates over the incarnation. Now I read

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320 Dean Ramsay. [Thb Priory,

Letter to it again, I find it impossible to abandon it ; the con-
Harrison, ceptions Hiovc me deeply, and they have never been
1866. wrought out before. There is not a thought or symbol
that I do not long to use : but the whole requires re-
casting ; and, as I never recast anything before, I think
of the issue very doubtfully. When one has to work
out the dramatic action for one's self, under the inspi-
ration of an idea, instead of having a grand myth or an
Italian novel ready to one's hand, one feels anything
but omnipotent. Not that I should have done any
better if I had had the myth or the novel, for I am not
a good user of opportunities. I think I have the right
locus and historic conditions, but much else is wanting.
I have not, of course, said half what I meant to say ;
but I hope opportunities of exchanging thoughts will
not be wanting between us.
Letter It is SO long sincc we exchanged letters, that I feel

Black- inclined to break the silenee by telling you that I have

wood, 6th ^ ^ ^

Sept 1866. been reading with much interest the " Operations of
AVar," which you enriched me with. Also that I have
had a pretty note, in aged handwriting, from Dean
Ramsay, with a present of his " Reminiscences of
Scottish Life." I suppose you know him quite well,
but I never heard you mention him. Also — what will
amuse you — that my readers take quite a tender care
of my text, writing to me to tell me of a misprint, or of
" one phrase " which they entreat to have altered, that
no blemish may disfigure " Felix." Dr. Allhaus has
sent me word of a misprint which I am glad to know
of^or, rather, of a word slipped out in the third volume.
" She saw streaks of light, etc. . . . and sounds." It
must be corrected when the opportunity comes.

We are very well, and I am swimming in Spanish
history and literature. I feel as if I were molesting

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i866.] Sir Henry Holland. 321

you with a letter without any good excuse, but you are Letter
not bound to write again until a wet day makes go^^ ^J^g^jj
impossible, and creates a dreariness in which even let- Sept. x866.
ter-writing seems like a recreation.

I am glad to know that Dean Ramsay is a friend of ^t*^^
yours. His sympathy was worth having, and I at once ^^*,,^,,
wrote to thank him. Another wonderfully lively old Sept. 1866.
man — Sir Henry Holland — came to see me about two
Sundays ago, to bid me good-bye before going on an
excursion to — North America ! — and to tell me that he
had just been re-reading " Adam Bede " for the fourth
time. " I often read in it, you know, besides. But this
IS the fourth time quite through." I, of course, with
the mother's egoism on behalf of the youngest born,
was jealous for " Felix." Is there any possibility of sat-
isfying an author ? But one or two things that George
read out to me from an article in Mactnillan^s Maga-
zine^ by Mr. Mozley, did satisfy me. And yet I sick-
en again with despondency under the sense that the
most carefully written books lie, both outside and inside
people's minds, deep undermost in a heap of trash.

Sept, 15. — Finished Depping's "Juifs au Moyen Journal,
Age." Reading Chaucer, to study English. Also
reading on Acoustics, Musical Instruments, etc.

Oct. 15. — Recommenced "The Spanish Gypsy," in-
tending to give it a new form.

For a wonder I remembered the day of the month, Letter to

•^ Miss Sara

and felt a delightful confidence that I should have a Henneii,
letter from her who always remembers such things at »866.
the right moment. You- will hardly believe in my im-
becility. I can never be quite sure whether your birth-
day is the 2ist or the 23d. I know every one must
think the worse of me for this want of retentiveness
that seems apart of affection ; and it is only justice that

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322 Enjoying Happiness. [The Priory,

Letter to they should. Nevertheless I am not quite destitute of
Henneu, lovlngness and gratitude, and perhaps the conscious-
1866. ' ness of my own defect makes me feel your goodness
the more keenly. I shall reckon it part of the next
year's happiness for me if it brings a great deal of hap-
piness to you. That will depend somewhat — ^perhaps
chiefly-^n the satisfaction you have in giving shape
to your ideas. But you say nothing on that subject

We knew about Faraday's preaching, but not of his
loss of faculty. I begin to think of such things as very
near to me — I mean, decay of power and health. But
I find age has its fresh elements of cheerfulness.

Bless you, dear Sara, for all the kindness of many
years, and for the newest kindness that comes to me
this morning. I am very well now, and able to enjoy
my happiness. One has happiness sometimes without
being able to enjoy it.
Journal, Nov, 22. — Reading Rcnan's "Histoire des Langues
S^mitiques " — Ticknor's " Spanish Literature."

Dec, 6. — We returned from Tunbridge Wells, where
we have been for a week. I have been reading Corne-
wall Lewis's " Astronomy of the Ancients," Ockley's
" History of the Saracens," " Astronomical Geogra-
phy," and Spanish ballads on Bernardo del Carpio.
Letter to We have been to Tunbridge Wells for a week.

Miss Sara ° '

Henneii, hoping to get plenty of fresh air, and walking in that
X866. sandy, undulating country. But for three days it rained
incessantly.

No ; I don't feel as if my faculties were failing me.
On the contrary, I enjoy all subjects — all study — more
than I ever did in my life before. But that very fact
makes me more in need of resignation to the certain
approach of age and death. Science, history, poetry —
I don't know which draws me most, and there is little

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i866.] New Vistas Everywhere. 323

time left me for any one of them. I learned Spanish Jfj^^^*^
last year but one, and see new vistas everywhere. That ^«"5«^^»
makes me think of time thrown away when I was young 1866.
— time that I should be so glad of now. I could enjoy
everything, from arithmetic to antiquarianism, if I had
large spaces of life before me. But instead of that I
have a very small space. Unfeigned, unselfish, cheer-
ful resignation is difficult. But I strive to get it.

Dec. II. — 111 ever since I came home, so that theJ?"™aii

' ^ 1866.

days seem to have made a muddy flood, sweeping away
all labor and all growth.

Just before we received Dr. Congreve's letter we had MilJl^con-
changed our plans. George's increasing weakness and g^®; JJjI
the more and more frequent intervals in which he be-
came unable to work, made me at last urge him to give tj
up the idea of " finishing," which often besets us vain- \
ly. It will really be better for the work as well as for
himself that he should let it wait. However, I care
about nothing just now except that he should be doing
all he can to get better. So we start next Thursday
for Bordeaux, staying two days in Paris on our way.
Madame Mohl writes us word that she hears from
friends of the delicious weather — mild, sunny weather
— to be had now on the French southwestern and
southeastern coast. You will all wish us weH on our
journey, I know. But / wish I could carry a happier
thought about you than that of your being an invalid.
I shall write to you when we are at Biarritz or some
other place that suits us, and when I have something
good to tell. No ; in any case I shall write, because I
shall want to hear all about you. Tell Dr. Congreve
we carry the " Politique " with us. Mr. Lewes gets
more and more impressed by it, and also by what he
is able to understand of the " Synthase." I am writing

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324 Start for Spain. [Thk Priory,

in the dark. Farewell. With best love to Emily, and
dutiful regards to Dr. Congreve.
jmiraai, j)^^^ jy.^Set ofF lu the evening on our journey to
the south.

SUMMARY,

JANUARY, 1866, TO DECEMBER, 1 866.

Letters to Frederic Harrison on Industrial Co-operation— Con-
sults him about law in " Felix Holt "—Asks his opinion on other
questions— Letter to Mrs. Congreve— Visit to Tunbridge Wells
—Reading Comte's ** Synthase "—Letter to F. Harrison on
"case" for " Felix Holt "—Letter to Miss Hennell— Joy in the
world getting better — Letter to Madame Bodichon — " Felix
Holt " growing like a sickly child — Want of sincerity in England
— Desire for knowledge increases — Blackwood offers ;£"5ooo for
"Felix Holt" — Letters to John Blackwood renewing corre-
spondence—Thanks for encouragement— Painstaking with " Felix
Holt "—Letter to F. Harrison on legal points— The book fin-
ished — Inscription — Letter of adieu to Mrs. Congreve — Letter to
Mrs. Bray— Excitement of finishing " Felix Holt "—Journey to
Holland and Germany — Letter to Mrs. Congreve from Schwal-
bach — Return to the Priory — Letter to F. Harrison asking for
sympathy — Letter to John Blackwood— Colonel Hamley— Letter
to Miss Hennell describing German trip — Miracle play at Ant-
werp—Amsterdam synagogue — Takes up drama " The Spanish
Gypsy " again— Reading on Spanish subjects— Letter to F. Har-
rison — Need of sympathy — ^Esthetic teaching — Tells him of the
proposed drama — Letters to John Blackwood — Dean Ramsay —
Sir Henry Holland — Article on " Felix Holt " in MacniillaiCs'
Magazine— ^^'X\i% Spanish Gypsy" recommenced — Reading Re-
nan's " Histoire des Langues Semitiques" and Ticknor's " Spanish
Literature" — Visit to Tunbridge Wells for a week — Reading
Comewall Lewis's "Astronomy of the Ancients" — Ockley's
" History of the Saracens," and Spanish Ballads — Letter to Miss
Hennell — ^Enjoyment of study — Depression — Letter of adieu to
Mrs. Congreve — Set off on journey to Spain.

END OF VOL. II.

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ERRATA.

VOLUME II.
Page 2, margin, insert "ad Jan.*»

'• 43, " delete " Munich to "
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